Mildly interesting day, with a disturbing side--to wit:
About noon, I went out and stopped at a red light on Ralston Street, which crosses very busy Victoria Avenue. Suddenly, a man on a bike sailed past me, then zoomed right across. He was an older guy, probably sixties or so, but tall and slender and he looked fit. However, he veered to the left, right into the path of a turning white van. He was hit and thrown up in the air, then crashed to the street. My way straight was blocked by the van and plenty of other people rushed to help, so I turned right and left the area. Hope he's okay and I'll look in the paper shortly.
I continued down to the beach area and got thoroughly lost, finding myself in, or next to, the naval base. I didn't mind, but stopped in a real estate office and got directions back. There was only one person there and she was no doubt bored to death, so we started chatting. I told her about my desire to move and she asked me to tell her about myself. When I did, she said any landlord would love to have me (single, mature, no pets, no smoking, superlative credit rating). Yes, I know that, but there have to be some apartments available to begin with. Anyway, I traveled on, but at loose ends, turned toward Santa Paula, the next town. Drove there, but didn't get out and went home to stop at the store for Romaine.
About 3:30, enjoyed a Skype call from that darling Tokyo Tyke. He's getting so big, he looks like a real boy. Well, he is a real boy, but no longer is exactly babyish, even though he's only two years and one month old.
Called my friend and had a nice chat with her. Also called Aline and we talked happily for 45 or so. Low-key day, but pleasant enough, aside from the accident.