Tuesday - time is passing too slowly . . .

I am itching to get back into Manhattan. These days, warm and potentially lazy, early summer, keep me from being as productive as I'd like. I need to be back in an office where the social and work interplay keep me on my toes. I need to get back onto the train so I start writing again. I want to see the people who are my friends but who are also distancing themselves for theirs and others' health. It's wearing on me.

My routine hasn't changed much. I'm still up before the sun, still getting on my rowing machine for up to an hour while watching half a movie, still sitting down to coffee, the news, a light breakfast before getting ready to work for a few hours. 

But it isn't the same. Some days I stay cooped up in the house almost the entire day, only going out for a walk in the garden or a quick run to the supermarket. Other days, I do go out for a long walk and that always stimulates the brain as well as the body. I need to do that every day, I think.

George Floyd was buried today. As expected, the Doofus-in-Chief didn't say or do anything to calm the storm, maybe even stirred it up a bit, tweeting a wild, paranoid theory about a severely injured 75 year old man, Martin Gugino, shoved to the ground by the police while peacefully protesting. Got to give it to the Doofus, he doesn't care what most people think about him, only about what his people think about them, if you can call their reflex responses thinking.

A few midtown Manhattan street photos, without editorial comment.

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