Friday. Lights out by ten getting a decent night's sleep (up but once during the night) to then awaken before six feeling, well, pretty good. None of the chest cold symptoms, but clear headed and reasonably upbeat, walking to breakfast without a second thought.

A couple of pictures on the way home, taking a look at yesterday's entry before posting to find it incomprehensible. Well, a badly written screed complaining of cold symptoms and the Dreamweaver upgrade. Spent three times the usual edit time before posting. Still a grim read, still.... Well, we posted it and crawled into bed.

A walk later to the lake, mirroring yesterday's walk to the lake, taking but one picture. Sat for a while at another one of the benches, but then returned to the apartment. Couldn't talk myself into eating anything or going anywhere. Are we bored? We might well be.

Later. Not much other than watching this and that on the tablet. I managed to start a movie and get an hour into it without remembering I'd seen in before. Had no idea how it ends, of course, but I did finally recognize one of the scenes, remembered how it turned out. Not a particularly good, not a particularly bad movie, but I'm sure I'd seen it in these last few years. On the tablet? Might have been earlier when I could access Netflix from the television set over the Internet.

So, as said, an afternoon of television news, movies and a slow as molasses won't give an inch new, but broken, Dreamweaver.

Evening. More movies on the tablet. Watched the Democracy Now Michael Moore interview ending before heading to bed and the tablet. Similarly made it a point to get up at eight to check out Charlie Rose and deciding to watch the lead off Dexter Filkins interview, a New Yorker writer, discussing his recent meeting with Syria's Assad and the Syrian war. Conflict. Whatever it is, whoever is involved, whatever is being done. No answers, of course, just questions. The situation. The blood.

Now, now.

I have this suspicion the times, as such, haven't changed since the days I was born, but now I'm noticing with age and (perhaps) experience how, um, “dicey” these times really are, always have been. They were every bit as dicey back then, but I was young and numb, all of the crap happening in the world around me but a projection on a movie screen.

And then you went to bed.

And then I went to bed.