So, what the hell, I got up and futzed with yesterday's entry (and believe me it needed futzing) before heading downtown on the bus, got the haircut, had a cup of coffee in the City Center while waiting on the next bus to arrive and took that next bus all the way to the morning café for a late breakfast, my three newspapers all the while under my arm.

Home now after noon. A slow start to the day, I'd say, but no complaints. I suspect we are, if nothing else, well rested. Funky, a bit spacey, but rested. Time now to crank up the guitar while all the neighbors are at work. That guitar lesson is closer now than this well practiced young man wants to think.

Later. An interesting instruction on the brain and how it, well, “confuses words” without encouragement. I've been calling the pandorea flowers pergola flowers, pergola the name for a garden structure that covers a walkway like the white columned pergola along Lake Merritt. This probably morphed (in my mind) from pandorea, to pandora (they are called pandora vines) to pergola and, of course, I just today somehow caught it. So, back to many a picture caption to make changes. Tomorrow. Or maybe after.

At least you've figured it out.

Let's just say I may have just started. I'm becoming aware it's far from impossible that I've missed some additional element in this particular (sob) story and there will be further developments.

Later still. So, what have I done? A walk down the way to get an ice cream cone, a walk then across the street to catch a bus to the ATM on Broadway, spacing out when it came to the ATM stop, getting off the bus at the next stop and walking back (not very far) to the bank, walking then all the way home to pick up the mail and to sit here at the computer.

I was off in a reverie as we approached the ATM stop. Just didn't react until the bus was pulling away. “My, my” was my thought. I'd been sitting, planning to get off just, oh, thirty seconds before, fifteen seconds before, but I somehow found myself thinking about something else when the bus stopped and then started again and we were off. I have to admit I've been thinking about that since. A sign or more like a statement of what's coming? Diddle-dee-dumbing?

A fruit pie (which, by the way, was awful) and a small three shot bottle of Jack Daniels at the 7-11 look picked up along the way. We'll see if we get into the Jack Daniels later, sooner or later. I suspect sooner, but for the moment, the idea isn't attractive.

Attractive?

Turns my stomach. Maybe try mixing it with water and ice.

Evening. I've had two people ask me if I have a cold (from the sound of my voice) and, when saying I didn't think so, one suggested allergies. Maybe so, the sinuses have been plugged up, opening a bit now as the day draws to a close. Could be a factor in the fuzzy brain operations of the day. Nice to think the spaced out as the bus pulled to its stop business was the result of allergies and explains some of this floating brain day in ways that don't seem so dramatic. We're not really into dramatic. Hyperbole, yes. Exaggeration, yes. Drama, real drama, we'll take a pass.

I've been watching the game that started at five. An occasional glance at the news, a glance to see what's playing on the six o'clock Italian police procedural (we'll maybe check back when it repeats at nine) but for now the game and the guitar. Now in the fourth inning with the Giants ahead four (oops, five!) to zip and feeling relatively calm, not that we've been betting any psychic rent on the Giants to win the series. Be nice, but, you know, just.

We're feeling better now after consuming the small bottle of Jack Daniels (three shots of whiskey over a couple of hours do seem to cut through to the allergies, rationalizing right and left) and the evening is looking up. Hup.

Oh, and the Giants won.