Wednesday It was some time after ten when I got to sleep last night. Hard to tell when you're zoning out I guess. Awoke too early at four-thirty, zoned out again and then awoke at fifteen minutes to six to get up finally and set out walking to breakfast under clear skies, the weather people saying it's going to get well up into the seventies later. Wondered if I should have just worn a t-shirt under the light jacket.

The two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, country potatoes, toast, fruit cup and coffee for no particular reason, finishing up just after nine to set out walking under the now bright sun. A light cool breeze kept my temperature down. The usual flower snapshots, some of them OK, some of them not. Snapshots is the correct term, I'm not spending enough time in setting up the picture and only become a critic when I see them on the computer screen. Doesn't cause me to change my ways, I'm afraid.

Home to take the selfie in the lobby before heading up and settling down at the computer. So far so good.

Later. Well, phooey, more time on the tablet, more news programs, but at least with little smoke in the air, the Chronicle web link saying Normal with the particulate content at the low end of that range.

One of the N.Y. Times stories had a comment that stuck in my mind: “Don’t think of it as the warmest month of August in California in the last century,” he wrote. “Think of it as one of the coolest months of August in California in the next century.” More smoke in 2021? 2022? Through the rest of the decade?

Evening. I did check out Midsomer Murders at eight. I'd seen it before, didn't remember how it ended, gave up and went right back to bed to listen to the tail end of the Giants-Rockies game on the radio, having had enough of whatever it was I'd been watching on the tablet. Lights out by ten to go right to sleep. Nice to go right to sleep.