Friday. Bowl of Raisin Bran or not, went to sleep last night after ten to awaken at seven. More sleep than I've had in a while. Up to walk to breakfast taking a picture of the scaffolding now in place on my building and passing the now finished mural in the parking lot at Euclid and Grand, passing a number of pedestrians, over half of whom weren't wearing masks. Arrived as usual to enter the dark dining area to turn on the lights and settle in with the papers.

Had the plain waffle with sliced bananas and strawberries, fruit cup and coffee again, finishing up around nine-thirty and setting out under cool and overcast skies to take a picture of the boarded up veterinary shop window before getting into the usual string of flowers between the restaurant and across from the Grand Lake theater below the Lakeview school. Makes the time it takes to make the walk pretty much just disappear.

On beyond the 580 Overpass, more boarded up offices and shops, more Gruv scooters by the lake, a picture of the signature on the mural above the parking lot, the completed scaffolding at the apartment house and the selfie in the lobby, all tuckered out. Not good to be all tuckered out after such an easy walk.

Later. I pooped out on the writing some paragraphs above on Friday morning after returning from breakfast, finally finishing the pictures by late afternoon and, for some inexplicable reason I'm going to have to think about, ate a bowl of Raisin Bran around four before settling in on the bed to start a Britbox series on the tablet.

Yes, an ocular migraine kicked in a hour or more later and royally screwed up the evening. No more cereal until say eight or nine from here on out until I've finished what I have on hand, use it to get to sleep before the fireworks begin. But Raisin Bran? Cheerios? Something to do with the two percent milk I'd had delivered?