After two days dedicated to our clogged stinking drain, the first with plumbers and the second with Benicia’s surprisingly accommodating sewer supervisor, Thursday last was at last the long-anticipated if also dreaded empty-stomached trip to Vacaville where, under warmed blankets and mild sedation, your correspondent was wheeled through a bewildering maze of corridors to have his eyes slit with tiny knives, their cloudy lenses sucked out and summarily replaced.

Afterwards I was carted home for avocado toast in the yard and rested for the rest

of the afternoon in a darkened room, watery eyes covered with plastic protective lenses.

This resting continued blearily through the night, slipping in and out of sleeping and then Friday, upping our odds with the Virus, it was back for another iteration of Hospital to have the work inspected in Vallejo for analysis of the results…positive so far.

Low-key healing followed, listening to podcasts Luz sent down and sharper visions

every day until the end of the weekend when, with pauses whenever those mild strobing

fluctuations recurred, a person could begin to get back to reviewing work for the Rollup Project

[March 27 – May 6] while all the while maintaining a mainly interior existence with exceptions,

mostly involving lunch out.

So far, so fine, as the Dems roll out the “B” Team [what does it say about the Process that all the candidates, proposed or incumbent, are septuagenarians in various states of deterioration? As a septuagenarian myself I’d say it’s utterly pathetic.] for the Spectacle Ahead…Perhaps

Sister Corona will have something to say about that; gimme a sixpack of Extra to go, please.

Next; banal images, sharpening up.  Maybe.