Still, easy enough. Strip the bed, load the two washers in the garage and then (something else I've been putting off) pull the bed away from the wall and look for the Bose radio remote control that I'd heard drop to the floor one morning at least a week ago and haven't been able to find since. And believe me I've looked.

Anyway, pry the bed away from the wall, all the plastic storage containers filled with clothes and towels and such that sit under the bed pulled out to the side. Still no remote. Finally, down on the floor, looking under the bed to the night stand on the other side, I saw a small dark shadow in the empty bottom magazine slot. Ah. It hadn't bounced under the bed, it had bounced deep into the new night stand with all its clever magazine slots. More clever than its owner, I'm afraid, the proof delivered down on my knees under a bed.

Recall the cosmic giggle. No need to chastise ourselves.

No fear there.

Later. A walk down to the morning café for a sandwich and a glass of lemonade. Very nice. A walk then on beyond the supermarket to the hardware store to buy extension cords, Scotch tape and electrician's tape, the extension cords, one for the bedroom and one for the living room, to make life easier with but the flip of a switch.

I'd forgotten all the ways a hardware store is a men's toy store, all those tools, electrical fixtures and gadgets to facilitate taking the house apart, what one does on a weekend or when retired. But I digress. No need to describe what I had in mind for the cords, but life will be easier and effort will be saved with but the flip of a switch.

So, a couple of mile walk to and back, the sinuses acting up, although I'd taken an extra pain pill before setting out. Nothing over the top, but it gives you something to think about as you're walking. I noticed, after the lunch, that the sinuses had loosened up again and I needed to blow my nose, so it's not that the food is hot (a turkey with Swiss cheese sandwich and iced lemonade, after all) but just the fact of eating. Again, I'm thinking this is a good sign, sinus activity of any kind, so aching or not, the afternoon is off to a good start.

Except for the photographs.

Didn't take a one, not even one of the gas station sign as I was passing, the price up a dime since breakfast this morning. Still, the day is not done, there are always photographs from the past if it need come to that.

Later still. An hour's nap: good. Tomorrow morning we finally get the car serviced and the various blood tests done: good. This evening another Maigret, although I'll probably have seen it before: good. Well, yes, good. Guitar starting about now: good. So we certainly can't complain now, can we? Certainly not on a Thursday afternoon.

Evening. A Maigret I indeed haven't seen before set again in a rustic French village in the 1950's. I'm assuming the 1950's, given the cars and phones and whatever, but it could as easily have been 1910 for all I could tell from the way the people were interacting.

This one was even more odd in ways I now realize they've all been odd, the story line impossible improbable, this one with pet rabbits and cats wandering throughout the house, ducks and chickens in the streets, in the bars, in the fields, in their beds. More a René Magritte than a Jules Maigret.

You sure you want to make that comparison?

Well, more than a touch of surrealism in this episode than I've seen before and I like the combination of the M's: Magritte-Maigret. Rabbits, cats, goats and a “where in the hell did the water go” lobster crawling across the floor before he's served up for dinner are more than enough to make you either disconnect the brain and follow along with the flow or throw up your hands in disbelief as you change the channel.

Anyway, I watched, playing along on the guitar, don't see anything coming up later so we'll head for bed.