Wednesday. Lights out at ten, again, although awakening at six, earlier by half an hour than I'd like. OK, take my time getting it together to get up and shave and such, listening to the radio and learning the primary results. Seems people feel the Bern when Independents are allowed to vote for Democrats, Clinton hammering him in Arizona where they're not, Sanders hammering her in Idaho and Utah where they are. Ah, well. Politics. Gets under your skin, makes you itchy at times you'd rather not. Be itchy or sustain a loss.

A walk to breakfast, the weather people now saying sun through the weekend, a picture of it rising as I approached the 580 overpass, the picture up top taken as I was walking home. Don't ask why I'd take another picture of this particular potted tree, I don't know. It's a Wednesday, we're awake, the world seems amenable.

Amenable?

To it being a Wednesday in Oakland.

Later. A nice long bath. You cut down bathing (to conserve water in this drought, cough! cough!) and so you're allowed to soak for a while as you listen to whatever is playing on the radio from the bedroom.

When's the last time you've taken a bath?

Neither one of us wants to know or admit to that.

A walk over to the lake, the day really nice, a fair number of people out and about for a Wednesday noon hour, sitting on a bench by the lake as I attempted to talk myself into going to the burger drive-in to bring home a chicken sandwich. With no luck whatsoever. My powers of persuasion have evidently atrophied these last several years and so a walk back to the apartment.

It's the lack of baths. Your brain goes dry and loses any lingering connection to reality. You can no longer even talk a hungry self into getting a grilled chicken sandwich (without onions): Q.E.D..

Later still. Two more sections of Latham Square photographs done and posted to the web sites. Two's enough web site pages for the while. Enjoy doing them well enough, the time passes quickly once I'm started, but I'm ready for something else, most anything else, by the time they're done.

Evening. Skipped Democracy Now as I'd listened to most of it on the radio when I got up this morning. Similar reaction to Charlie Rose at eight. Sometimes you listen, sometimes you don't, which pretty much defines the evenings around here anymore. To bed by nine, lights out by ten. Just like that.