A couple of times I saw another bird, white, maybe a hundred feet up in the air, flying with an extravagant fluttering of its wings until it vanished behind the roof of the apartment. Again, my eyesight being what it is, I was not sure exactly what I was looking at, but the thought has since occurred to me that it might not have been a single bird but a pair, copulating in flight. The movement was so odd and erratic that I don't see why a singe bird would choose it as a method of aerial locomotion. Perhaps the "erratic" was actually erotic.
I've made tentative arrangements for a trip to the supermarkets, either Sunday or Monday. None of them have much that I want or need on sale this week, but I'm getting close to being out of several necessities, so if I must pay full price so be it. I'm not anticipating going out with great relish (oh, I should add relish to my shopping list) as coronavirus infections are exploding in Butte County. As of tonight they are up to 522, with 187 of them added in just the last seven days. Just a couple of months ago the county had one of the lowest rates of increase in cases per 100,000 population among California counties, and now it us up to 27th to last in its rate of increase, having surged past all the Bay Area counties but Marin, which are all pretty densely urban. In a few days we'll probably pass Sacramento County. Many other north valley counties are doing rather poorly, too. It's very unnerving.
The heat wave continues, of course, with no relief in sight. I'm just glad I can still afford to run the air conditioner, as without it I'm sure I'd have keeled over dead by now. And most of summer still lies ahead. I think 2020 is going to turn out to be my least favorite year ever. I hope something happens to at least partly redeem it in November.