Friday. Lights out last night by nine-thirty to awaken two minutes before the alarm was due to sound at six-thirteen, giving me just enough time to get up, get ready and head out the door to walk to breakfast on a not overly cold morning, arriving at the restaurant before seven to find it again open and so settled in with the papers. Not a bad start was the thought on this Valentines Day.

The two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee over the papers, the reading going on longer than in recent days and so not finishing up until just after nine before setting out for home. Took more pictures of flowers in their planters, a bicycle rider at the Grand Lake theater light, of the broken traffic sign still sitting below the Lakeview school and another bicycle rider waiting at the 580 Overpass light. The various scooter rental firms seem to be avoiding leaving their scooters along the lake. Home to take the selfie and settle in to wrestle with what there was to finish yesterday's entry, no thoughts on what to do for the rest of the day.

Plenty of chores and such to do here around the apartment.

So I've, um, heard.

Later. Didn't go outside, spent the time burning out watching stuff on the tablet, although “burning out” didn't burn enough to drive me out the door.

Evening. Stayed up to check out the Inspector Morse that started at eight to turn it off after some ten minutes and head for bed. More a ritual than any thought I'd actually watch the thing, but something to do, I guess, on Friday evenings. The BBC News at nine, the radio off and lights out by nine-thirty. Again.