Tuesday. To sleep pretty much right off the bat last night to awaken at five forty-five. Not unusual, five forty-five, the hour and three quarters seems to zip right along to when I finally head out the door to breakfast. This morning drove to the Lakeshore ATM before heading over the hill to the restaurant, taking a photograph while stopped at a traffic light of a group of Black Lives Matter portraits I'd driven by before that's located near the ATM. Thinking of walking over tomorrow to get closer and take a better picture.
Arrived at the restaurant at ten minutes to eight, the usual time, headed into the blocked off dining area, turned on the lights and settled in with the papers.
The two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee again, finishing up not long after nine to head to the car, snap a picture of that flowering plant and drive straight home taking the selfie in the lobby before settling in with yesterday's entry, post and start the laundry. The usual “I'll put it off until tomorrow” routine, but managed to do it anyway.
Later. Laundry done, folded and hung by three in the afternoon, finishing the socks as I watched the PBS News Hour, spending the rest of the day with the Korean series My Mister on the tablet, the series I'm having trouble understanding what exactly it is about it that's both off-putting and yet attractive. All the characters, major or minor, seem to be miserable in their lives. It would seem to be an across the board downer, except it keeps me watching.
Evening. Turned on Last Tango In Halifax at seven, having forgotten it was playing last week, but soon gave up. A whole new list of problems all muddled by my difficulty in making out their accents on what I'm guessing is my less than stellar television audio and my own less than accurate ears. They say the hearing will go with age, maybe I'm learning they're not kidding. I'm also afraid English television of a certain kind and age is no longer an area of interest.