And so up an hour late to head off to breakfast on an overcast morning, although the sun is just now coming in bright through the balcony doors. A good breakfast, although I had the single pork chop (the normal portion is two, not sure why I always specify I had but one) with country potatoes, scrambled eggs and coffee, pork and every other kind of meat on the prohibited list if its prepared with MSG. We haven't had any ocular issues lately, even with some cheating, so we'll see.

Is it you don't believe this stuff about food or you just don't care?

I believe, but I want it to go away and I can't tell if it's gone away if I don't test every other day now and again.

Anyway, can't say I got much sleep, so we'll see if it comes around to slap me down (in but another few minutes).

Later. A bath, a failed attempt at a nap and then a walk over to the lake with a long lens on the camera resulting in three pictures of a lone Snowy Egret that was standing by the shore. They're skittish, these egrets, and I had to approach it carefully, again with the long lens. And that was what I was able to find for photographs.

Still, I'd set out overly warm in a light jacket, so another walk (after screwing around reading news sites) now in a long sleeved shirt to the morning restaurant, passing by a group being photographed at the edge of the lake. I passed them again in the distance later (without getting a picture) and realized from their signs it was Dan Siegel who'd recently announced he was running for Oakland mayor. A “progressive”, not someone Rush Limbaugh would like. But I might.

A grilled cheese sandwich, ice cream and coffee at the usual place, a walk then back to the apartment taking another picture in my never ending but ever boring tree stump series. That's alright. You can't hit without a miss. Or two. A few. Not sure why I still do this.

Because you're not taking it seriously.

Probably not.

Later still. Polanski-Depp's The Ninth Gate has a rare book central to the story, a book with a value of something like a million dollars and the “professionals” who own it/handle it/read it do so as they might read today's newspaper without any thought to the oil on their hands or ashes from the cigarettes their smoking or spills from the whiskey they're drinking glass after glass. Makes you want to bang their collective heads.

Oh, and Mr. Depp's character wanders around clueless on dark nights in deserted places with this very book in his possession knowing a friend has just been killed in an ongoing attempt to steal it. What were the people who made this movie thinking? Maybe one reason I've never heard of it or, if I have, I've managed to put it out of my mind.

The day though does seem to have come into focus. No sign of ocular anythings and the attitude is good. Still, not good to miss so much sleep the night before, slows you down, makes you mumble on about movie plots and pork chops.

Evening. Nothing on television, it's becoming the norm. I gave up on The Ninth Gate, deleted it from the Netflix queue with twenty minutes left to run. Ah, well. This one is bad enough it can't just be me making this up.

Not a bad day, to bed early. We'll read tonight skip the tablet, see if avoiding it is more restful, restful enough to get to sleep and then up on time.