The Honeywell air filter sits on its wheels like a large canister vacuum cleaner in the middle of the bedroom floor, whirring. The rug has been vacuumed. I even changed the vacuum bag. I was embarrassed. It was inflated to bursting and solid like cement. Young bachelor stuff. The rug, however, is cleaner. Cleaner is good.

The desk in the bedroom again looks like a desk. No dust. The Bose radio has been moved to the top of the book case on the facing wall, the remote control working just fine, thank you, from the bed. You could, if you felt the urge, sit down, spread out papers and do actual desk-type work. The rapid battery chargers I use for the cameras remain on the far corner, but they're small and they're handy where they are. The Radio Shack 6" color TV set that once sat up on my workbench (when I had a workbench) still sits in its place on the corner, but it is sitting there on borrowed time.

So, the allergies are gone now and all things are wonderful?

Who knows? You make changes, you buy an exotic looking air filter that goes whirr in the dark, you get a certain psychological lift. We'll revisit in a week. Let us hope, let us hope.

I did, however, skip the Solano Stroll on Sunday. I usually drive over and park at the base of Solano where the Stroll begins, but I usually park on the street thirty minutes or so before it starts at ten before all the parking spaces are taken. Sunday, the temperature rising into the nineties, the sun overly bright, me running late, it turned out my heart wasn't in it. I've shot four of them now, maybe five. I have a page of Solano Stroll photographs on artandlife. A miserable page after five years. Less than twenty photographs.

And?

Oh, I don't know. The Stroll marks a beginning of sorts. In the first year or two I shot a bunch of out of focus, over exposed (under exposed), weird-assed, generally pitiable pictures. It's like a chapter closed.

No more out of focus, over exposed (under exposed), weird-assed, generally pitiable pictures?

I wish.