Saturday. To sleep pretty much right away to awaken at five, blink twice and awaken with the alarm at six-fifteen. OK, feeling pretty good (wide awake, anyway) getting up and out the door to walk to breakfast, arriving again at five minutes to seven to find the restaurant dark, but the dining area door again open and so inside to turn on the lights and settle in with the papers. They're saying rain today, but later. One hopes after I get back to the apartment.

The single pork chop, eggs over medium, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast, to finish up reading again at around ten minutes to nine to set out for home under overcast, but happily dry skies, to arrive, snap the selfie and look at yesterday's entry. Yes, yes, wrinkle the nose before posting.

The head clear?

Seems so, although I bail on adding anything here once the first section is completed. The desire/ability to do more writing seems to evaporate in the late morning and through the rest of the afternoon and evening. Lighter than air, the brain just takes a vacation.

Later. Started raining at eleven-thirty and it's been pretty much raining since. Watched the PGA tournament on and off through the afternoon, finished watching a Korean series on the tablet that I've been wading through for the last couple of weeks and that's been the afternoon, now pretty much complete.

Evening. Nothing I wanted to watch on the television channel that broadcasts the various German/Dutch/Norwegian/French/Italian programs I check every night at six, the eight o'clock movie on PBS at eight didn't rope me in and so to bed by eight-thirty to hang around long enough to learn the Warriors had come back again and won the third game in their Portland series before lights out for this Saturday night.

And this is being written tomorrow morning, having run out of gas by noon?

Indeed. Not always, but usually, maybe four out of every five end up being scribbled in every morning.