Friday. Lights out before ten to then awaken just before six. Too early, by some ten or fifteen minutes, but up and out the door to walk to breakfast again without the East Bay Times in hand. It probably arrived minutes after I'd left, minutes I'm not willing to wait.

Still, a dentist's appointment at ten, so time was tight. Had the chicken-apple sausage, eggs, country potatoes, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast, not thinking, with the appointment later, that maybe anything that looked as if it might be a cured meat, even an ersatz chicken-apple cured meat, might bring on an ocular migraine later as I was setting out to drive. This is the thought that occurred, anyway, as I was getting ready to go and began feeling a little wobbly. Ocular migraine wobbly? It arrived and then was gone by the time I got to the car, but something to remember when we do this next time again.

Up and out and back from breakfast on a warm morning, just a light jacket over a long sleeved shirt. They're saying well into the eighties through this coming next week and I was believing them as I drove to the dentist's office in a t-shirt with the air conditioner turned on.

The teeth cleaning ended with a referral to a dental surgeon after the technician detected an infection below one of the back molars and this time, I'm afraid, I'm going to follow through to get it taken care of. It doesn't hurt, but leaks now and again and I've had the thing for some time. Monday. We'll call them for an appointment on Monday.

Home to vegetate with one or two Law & Order episodes, switching back and forth to the PBS news between the seemingly never ending advertising breaks. A little of one, a little of the other.

Evening. A late afternoon walk to the 7-11 look-alike for a pint of strawberry ice cream, more an excuse to get out the door than hungry. Good, though. Strawberry ice cream. For dinner.

A pretty boring day, even with the dental outing.

That's what's called success at our age.

Bullshit.