Sunday A decent night's sleep, awakening at six-fifteen to listen to CounterSpin followed by TUC Radio and the news, up to drive to breakfast on a cool to cold bright sunny morning, the first to arrive and sit out at my table on the patio, I and one other table the only ones occupied during breakfast. Started on the papers and yesterday's clinching of the presidency by Biden and Harris.

The plain waffle with sliced bananas and strawberries, fruit cup and coffee for breakfast, finishing up after nine to take the one flower picture on the way to the car and drive straight home to take a selfie and then settle in here at the computer to go through the usual finish all this routine. All done by ten-thirty this time with fewer pictures to process.

Later. Listened to the Metropolitan Opera's presentation of Aida at noon. I haven't been listening to the music I once consumed like an addict back when I was younger and so I haven't listened to Aida all the way through in decades. I did attend a performance of Aida at the old Met in December 1962 that starred Leontine Price, Irene Dalis, Sandor Kónya and Georgio Tozzi when I'd come home from college for Christmas. I at least knew back then where Price stood in the pantheon of great opera sopranos and was lucky enough to see her perform live in other operas during those college years. Oh, and today's Aida, Anna Netrebko, was pretty damned good.

Evening. Cold this afternoon, there'd been some rain I hadn't noticed until I'd noticed the wet street below. Nothing on television I wanted to watch and so to bed early thinking I'd be able to get to sleep early or late.