It Would Seem
Monday. To bed at ten, up at eight. Still a bit frazzled noticing typos and mistakes in the writing I've not made in the past. Still, not something new, we've been seeing these things gather as they've proliferated over these last few years.
Anyway, more than enough sleep, at least on paper, off to get a cup of coffee (black) and a Times at the local Starbucks, back to read the paper and futz with more typos and flat out mistakes.
No complaints. The day is nice, the temperature, at least this early in the morning, is nice and I'm ready. For something. As ready as I ever am before eleven in another land.
Later. OK, off to Lake Oswego with the sister to walk about and take pictures, ending up at the restaurant we'd had dinner at the other night for a light lunch, the same waitress who was into photography taking care of us again at an outside table.
Interesting young woman, the D3 she's using belonged to her boyfriend and, although they'd broken up five months ago, she was still holding onto the camera. She needed to buy one of her own as he was becoming insistent. (Well, yes.)
You don't often run into people who've obviously drunk the photo Kool Aid. I wish her well.
Back now, some of the tiredness having lifted in the outside air. Maybe a nap after that lunch and the Vodka-lemonade-something or other cocktail.
Later still. A nap, up then to read more of this morning's paper, another nap, a sandwich, a pint of ice cream and now it's close to six. No Scandinavian detectives, reporters or similar goof offs available on the local channels, so we're left to our own ends. Novelty, Mr. Jimmy. At loose ends.
Evening. To bed as early as I can, this evening, get in whatever sleep I can. The train leaves Portland at two twenty-five, so plenty of time to get ready, but I'm ready right now, it would seem.