I'm not sure what the day may hold, other than more guitar practice (we did well yesterday, we did). A trip downtown? I've not been downtown in, well, days. No farther than the downtown though, we're still caught in our old fogies who won't venture forth phase. Not sure how long it will last or what it portends, but I've been in the middle of it now for what seems a long time.

I still do occasionally break out of these self inflicted bounds and find that once I'm out on the road I'm fine, but this hunker down, don't walk much father than my morning café on any given day, seems to have settled in. Set up camp next to the communal fire. Joining the camp. Whatever it does when it arrives and sends its roots down deep into the sod.

Which means?

That we'll most probably take a walk in a little bit, but not on to the airport with a ticket in hard or across any of the bridges that connect us to the real outside world.

Except for the Internet and the virtual world?

Well, yes. Getting old doesn't mean we totally leave behind the more seductive habits of our wider neurotic culture. Certainly not here in Oakland.

Later. The usual walk over to have lunch (BLT, ice cream and lemonade) and back, taking no pictures, but puttering along at about half speed. None of the tiresome symptoms I've so lovingly described in the past, but a slower noon hour than I've had recently, enough to notice, we'll chalk it up to a Wednesday, add it to the Wednesday list.

The Wednesday list?

A list of symptoms that lead to a nap that are associated with a particular day in the week. Slow Wednesday lunch hours forewarning you to take an afternoon nap. No need to bring up the foibles of the night before, not that the night before could have possibly had anything to do with today's symptoms, just, you know, be prepared.

Later still. As I was toying with my frivolous thoughts of naps, noon hours and sleeping logs, the late afternoon delivered an unpleasant stretch, symptoms at the ocular migraine end of the spectrum in that they involved the slow onset of a “different” reality that took its time in making its presence known. It went away completely after lying down for a couple of hours, although it serves me right. A little slow moving at lunch, some light weight bitching while it slowly sneaks into your head on cats feet, like a fog, and you don't notice it until the world has changed in disturbing ways.

Still, up now after, feeling good, sitting down to catch up on the guitar. Not caught up yet, but there's still another hour left in the evening. The day does go by, but on its own terms and in its own time. No complaints, we're whole, the world is well, but we'll try to be more circumspect the next time.