Tuesday. To sleep by about ten to awaken at a quarter to six. Not bad, nothing like the uneven night before last. Up to walk to breakfast, the temperature decent, to arrive before seven and find the restaurant open and so settle in at my table and start on the papers. So far, so good.

The eggs Benedict, country potatoes, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast because that's what appealed, finishing up by a quarter to nine to then set out for home, passing by a single flower below the school. Cut them all down and they do come back. On by the 580 Overpass light and a line of Lime scooters by the lake, arriving home by nine to take the selfie and head up to the apartment. A little tired, but still so far, so good. He said.

I'd obviously been somewhat fried yesterday and given up on the journal entry early, having to cobble it together this morning. I guess I do enjoy the writing much like the photography and don't seem to be put off as both have deteriorated. Both need more time and attention and, although I have the time, can't say the same for attention. Fuzzy headed attention.

Listening to the Impeachment Hearing since getting home. There's a certain punishment associated with listening for too long.

Later. Stuck with the Impeachment Hearing on through the afternoon, listening to it on and off while lying on the bed, while sitting in the living room watching it on T.V. and, I suspect, I'll watching it again tomorrow, followed later in the evening by the November Democratic Debate at six. Then maybe we'll take a break.

Evening. Nothing on television and so to bed before eight, avoiding the tablet and half listening to the radio until the BBC News came on at nine. Lights out by nine-thirty, interested in seeing how long it took to get to sleep.