Friday. Something close to what I suspect is now a normal night's sleep. I think. Awoke early at six-ten, but got up, took the blood pressure - 109/73 - and headed out the door on an overcast morning, arriving before seven to find the restaurant open.

Ordered a ground beef patty, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee and read through the papers, finishing up at ten before nine, the sky still overcast on the walk home. The usual pictures of scooters sitting on the sidewalks as I passed them by, another flower and then home. Life in the fast lane. Yesterday's entry wasn't close to finished (or coherent) and so edit and post, take another blood pressure reading - 112/80 - and continue listening to the hurricane news. It's raining in the Carolinas.

Friday, a day for a walk. Now, how many times must I say that to get my butt outside? Too many. We'll soon find out.

Later. Another afternoon inside. I've been watching Silk, a BBC series on the tablet, and, although it's very good - acting, story line, dialogue - it depicts something of a horror show, people (lawyers) who are at all times stabbing one another in the back, front, side and wherever else one can find. They can find. Not really quite that bad, but something you certainly wouldn't want to live it, if it puts you off just to watch.

Where did that come from?

From the tablet.

Evening. Took the blood pressure at seven - 129/81 - and, since there was nothing on television, went to bed just after eight. I'd watched more than enough turmoil on the tablet for one day and so turned the lights out at nine. Nine. On a Friday night.