Sunday. To bed well after ten watching Maria resolve her Medieval mystery last night, awake just before the alarm feeling pretty good, heading off to breakfast on another sunny but dangerous for wild fires morning. Again, feeling perky, although I assume I'll shortly slip into another never ending expression of existential angst. We always do. By noon. It seems.

Is this the way to start a day?

It seems to be the way I'm starting this day. Not a thought in my head of what to do or where to go, but feeling good and making good time in thinking, if not doing, anything with it. We take our successes in any way we find them, the lack of soreness in the now empty gall bladder area no small matter. Feels good. Could even lead to pictures later.

Later. A walk over along the lake to the ice cream shop on Lakeshore for two scoops with a topping. No rumblings or comments from the stomach either before, during or after. Cross our fingers. So far no food reactions I can find or feel.

A picture along the lake, a picture along Lakeshore and that was about it. There are only so many pictures in the world and today, maybe, they weren't hanging out along my route.

Or maybe you were asleep at the wheel.

Either way no pictures today.

Later still. And so a nap. A nice nap. Not sure how long, but that's a good sign, shows us we were indeed asleep. An hour? Two hours? Something like that.

Evening. There was a PBS thing about a lawyer that started at nine I've not seen before, but I'd obviously talked myself into skipping it as I watched for a few minutes, didn't like the way the character came across in the first scene and split. For bed. And sleep.