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Saturday night's basic thoughts

(I hope at least some of you thought that subject line was going to be "Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting," huh.)

Let's see if I have a blog entry in me. Or rather, a blog entry I want to write.

I'm slightly bleary right now. Today wasn't particularly hard or hard-exertion, but I'm still bleary. I hope this means good sleep once I go to sleep.

I spent the afternoon out. First a visit to Old Town/Chinatown's Sequential Art Gallery, which has Saturday hours, for its current show by Yuki Saeki. Luckily, I was there early enough for today's shorter hours: co-owner Kaebel Hashitani was going to close the gallery early due to two scheduling conflicts that ran into each other (he had a work shift later today, his usual Saturday helper couldn't come). Saw some art, visited with Kaebel and his cat Manju, and had what was probably a needed discussion; then I headed to eat.

At Urban Pantry, a Pearl District prepared foods place: you order either the makings of a meal you heat up at home, or a deli sandwich for there or to-go. Another friend (who knows the owner) had recommended the place; the place also was damaged by anarchists last week who used an anti-Donald Trump protest as an excuse to break things. I felt good about giving the place some business, and felt good about my food: a pepperoni/salami panini with a side of pizza sauce, a small Greek salad, and a small brownie. The small Greek salad comes into play later.

In the cooling afternoon — it had clouded up since I'd left home for downtown, with some drizzle — I got over to the library to return a book, sit, and get online briefly. Then down to the bus, to hop onto a #4 bus headed to North Portland, and I poked my head into Bridge City Comics for Local Comic Shop Day. I didn't buy comics, but wanted to see if anyone I knew was there.

It was while I was waiting for my latest bus that the Greek salad came into play. The to-go container's top? Open. Just open enough. I had a tote bag, a tablet, and a poetry notebook that smelled like Greek salad. Oops. I cleaned off the tablet as best I could considering I was on the side of the road, and made an extra stop on the way home: I sat down in the Foster Ave. Fred Meyer's eating area, ate the salad so the smelliest parts of it would get inside me, and see if my tablet was behaving funkily. Because it had been. After I'd found the spilled dressing, my tablet seemed not to think it could generate sound. Now it can (I'm listening to John Williams' The Force Awakens score right now, to help stay awake!), but I'm still watching out for any odd behavior by this piece of tech.

When I got home, I got laundry started pretty quickly. Good thing the tote bag is cotton and washable. Though it still smells slightly of Greek salad. TIME TO AIR OUT. On a door knob in my bedroom. Will I dream of small Greek salads?

I, um, hope you had a decent day.