Taco

 The morning spent with unsatisfactory rummaging, moving small things around for no effect other than increasing the entropy of this existence. Note that the morning coffee is empty, make an espresso instead.

The blood pressure level was so very low in the morning, those small reddish pills take a noticeable effect. Pack the picture with its Passepartout into the carrier bought two years ago for transporting artwork. At least the item has a use now, on this rainy and stormy day.

The day started with loud explosions of thunder, multiple claps. The eyes were still closed so the lightning was not noticed. The thunder rolled on for most of the morning, sometimes louder and sometimes more distant. 

After about half an hour, when it became brighter outside, got up and dressed. Made the bed, and took the pills. Two pills for the blood pressure, two vitamins, and one for the continence.  Leave the tray on the bed, as a reminder that the pills had been taken. The tray will be removed in the evening.

Read about that meeting in Alaska. There is Taco on the menu, together with an attack on democracy worthy of a despot.

Listen to the radio, and then go to the gallery. The gallery owners, husband and wife, are there, The picture is speedily unpacked and placed in its frame. The man expresses dismay that it was not placed so far up in the frame as he would have preferred, but there is an argument provided by Fibonacci that it was better the way it was. Coffee was had and enjoyed in the company of the saturday crowd, all those artists who are not but all have such a lot to say.

Leave and return home. On the way, meet the Argentine in the street, and have a short conversation with him. At home again, take a shopping bag, go shopping and buy little. Do not forget the coffee.