This long entry (which I will divide up) is interesting to me as a sort of tour of 1980s San Francisco — nubbly with cash, checks, VCRs, electronic cables… Life was different.

First, our neighborhood:

The morning was spent lying around in bed with Tim and the cats, though Tim managed to talk me into walking down to the deli on Fifth and getting some sandwiches and drinks. A beautiful day, the kind where everyone feels they have to get outside. I walked down to the Great Western to get some cash. The Powell Street cable car turnaround was packed with people. The black evangelist with the red fedora had vanished, replaced with an elderly Asian man with a megaphone. A young guitarist serenaded the people waiting for the cable car, and a little further away, a small band played wood flute and drums. I gave them a dollar.