Anyway, up at eight to walk to breakfast on a sunny morning, the day beginning to come alive. The body starting slowly, but starting, taking its time to loosen up, getting lubricants out to where they're needed, clearing the head. An hour and a half, the usual period over the papers and breakfast, thinking of waiting for a bus when I finished, but saying the hell with it and walking home, the bus catching up with me when I reached my stop. Better to have walked.

Again, the day sunny. The temperatures were down to thirty-nine degrees two nights ago (two nights? three?) it said (reading the Tribune), quite a drop after the week we had with days in the eighties. Obviously no complaints in any of this, we are marginally aware of what real people put up with in this world, but interesting to know. It was cold those few nights ago and now I know how cold.

Later. A bus downtown was the decision this noon, a walk through the City Center (crowded, with lines at the various eateries), so on to Peet's in front of the old APL building on Broadway at 12th to have a small cup of coffee (half hot water, still a bit strong) and a scone out on the patio to watch the people pass on by, a walk then back up Broadway to catch the bus at Webster and Grand. Puff, puff.

Off at the 7-11 look-alike for two bottles of Diet Coke to replenish the larder (money is no object), a Lean Cuisine meal (for no discernible reason) and a small box of Good & Plenty for good reasons, too many to list. Anyway, here now in the apartment having downloaded the pictures I'd taken along the way.

I'd been thinking, looking at the picture counter on the camera, what pictures had I taken? I couldn't remember and this not for the first time. Oh, right, the mural on the old Oaksterdam building, noticing for the first time they'd painted over the bottom up to a height just above the parked cars. To cover up the graffiti that had been accumulating? Too bad. I guess.

Not sure what this is or if there was some purpose to the spelling. Could be street slang, I'm too old to know anymore, but if you're going so far as to cut a stencil, I assume you're spelling with a purpose. “Beat”iful. OK. Different strokes, different folks.

A jury summons in the mail for the 11th of December, a day on which I have two appointments in Palo Alto that I'd made months ago, so I contacted them on the web to see if I could delay for a day. No way. They gave me a six month delay, however, with just click on the calendar. Interesting. No mention of what time in the morning I might have had to report next month in the mail piece. I wonder who proofs these things before they go out.

Evening. Another Maigret that I knew with the first scene I'd seen before, but had no idea right up until the end who'd done it. Again, an episode I've seen not all that long agoe, certainly within the last year. I don't know if it's because the brain is going or the material isn't worth remembering, perhaps some combination of both. But then, so what? It makes a good background distraction as I'm going over my finger picking exercises, memorizing them, getting them down. For that I'm grateful.

Let's see if we can get to bed early and get up with the alarm tomorrow. I have one last floor standing lamp, a GE thing that self destructed on its own (maybe that's why they haven't paid any taxes in the U.S. over these many years, none of their products are any good) that I'll drop in a dumpster on my way to breakfast tomorrow morning. It isn't particularly big, particularly since I've broken it down and wrapped it up in small sections, but one last nail will be pounded flat tomorrow morning in the clearing out all the junk project. Hup and stuff.

OK, it's nine, we are done for the evening except for the bath, so to bed early, the day has gone along well.