Monday. Lights out just before ten. Or was it nine? Whatever. Awoke two minutes after six to get up and get ready to walk to breakfast, the two papers delivered on Mondays having arrived right on time. Reasonably clear, not too cold and so wore a light jacket over a long sleeved shirt on a day they're saying will get up into the eighties.

Couldn't think of anything I really wanted for breakfast, but settled for a mushroom and cheese omelet, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee. They seem to be making progress with the wildfires, Trump doesn't seem to have said anything too weird in the last twenty four hours and people continue to blow things up in the Middle East. A slow Monday, in other words.

The walk home, the usual pictures, the week ahead. They'd canceled the Berkeley Sunday Streets yesterday due to the air quality from the wildfires, and we're running pretty short on pictures for up top and behind the title, so we'll maybe have to come up with something suitable during this coming week. Go out on the street with a camera, in other words. The thought is not encouraging.

Later. Into the low eighties and so stayed inside through the afternoon. Well, I've been in here all afternoon, the temperature only part of the reason. Lazy comes in at some point as well.

Evening. And so the day has gone. I admit to watching Father Brown at seven, the same similar story line, the rather dorky improbable who ultimately cares who done it story line Father Brown. Still I watched. More embarrassingly I've admitted to same.

Checked the Charlie Rose interviewees for the episode and passed. Only eight, but it's time for bed, we'll probably see the lights go out quicker than soon.