In the morning waking there is the really good coffee and breakfast right close.

We move on out and down the other way, to the once and prospective house. There are weeds, so we go and get salt, vinegar, a hand clipper at the feed store. Then back in the sweat to clean her up.

A friend drops by as we’re finishing, with some bad takes about race relations in America: looting is wrong.

Yeah that’s right. It is. And if you were young and black, you might be tempted to beat in the tailights of a squad car too. Wouldn’t you? I’m neither young nor black, and I’m tempted. What else is there?

We water ourselves liberally and retrace half our steps. Now we are at Posada, the Oasis of this stretch. It is beautiful. Everyone follows the rules and is masked, except for a quartet of old fat white people defying the rules theatrically and drinking in a side lobby. Everyone mumbles unhappily at them as they pass, but everybody knows, that the world is full of stupid people. Even at the very best of the best places. It will not harsh our buzz.

The internet connection is very hot and I burn it up, mass downloading. Also, we watch Cowboys and Aliens. Also, we have a ridiculously expensive and ridiculously good meal. Mine is a Churro lamb stew. Cocktails too. We go back the room and play it off in the very best of the best ways.

I sleep eleven hours, roughly.

That’s a good day then.