Strange.

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I can't be sure when I went to bed.  After eleven, before thirteen hundred?  If I had to guess.  Crashed, hard, for... whatever reason.  Hmm, yes, I am stretching days.  A few days ago, I think, I had been going to sleep around six?  Six to nine for the last, say, month?  Yeah.  But why did I wake at 17:00, almost exactly.

Oh... noises, alarms, something happening next door.  I stepped out to look.  A chainsaw, or other gas powered emergency device, was being used.  But I can't see what.  Too far, through too much else.  But too, it's not just one vehicle.  There were at least three fire trucks there?  I am sure I saw three, unless one was mongo long, but even then there would be two.  If I think three.  Though, probably police, possibly ambulance(s) too?

I remember these in Iowa City.  Though then, if the fire department went in, they went in with police backup.  The apartments behind my house rental were Chicago exiles... ghetto exiles.  Though, more often than not, it was just a dozen cop cars, some with riot gear.  Never did hear what happened.  They had an ambulance on standby usually too.  Fire or police.  At least here, even if it is the police, it's... not a threat to (other) white people, even at the worst.

I'm checking with another neighbor.  At least I know someone locally.  He heard where, but not what, yet.  He's still at work.  Just keep the folk in prayers, and the guys managing problems... to keep them safe.  A lot of them, hereabouts, are volunteers.  Yes, it makes a difference.

Set things up for tomorrow.  To begin another shot at work.  The next project will be to clear out this front room, even moving the computer into the living room... somewhere in there.  After that, I'll begin bringing things to go into this room.  But, boxed, and organized.  When a load is ready, then getting a dumpster in is the next part.  In, filled, out... quickly.  Then... begin getting another load ready.  I am thinking two loads, but that is getting rid of stuff I simply won't be taking, that also has little resale value, or that nobody would want.

Downsizing sort of hurts the feelings, strangely?  Yes, something about having collected stuff, for this or that reason, only to have seen those reasons not happen, or have failed.  The death of dreams, smaller or larger.  All I have had, for much of many years now, is dreams.  Very little substance.  Even so, there is tomorrow.  The last of the dreams?  Who knows.

May just be up for a while.  Would like to eat, but what?  Ah... chicken brats and sauerkraut might do.  It's pretty bland.  But filling, enough.  I have steak, should be thawed, but not ready for that today.  All good.  Later, or possibly good night, again.