I took the dog out for a zombie-walk today and decided a few minutes in that maybe I could run some of it. And I did! Ended up doing 3.3 miles at a slow running pace for me, but with plenty of walking breaks. And my head didn't feel like it was going to explode, which has definitely been a problem. Yay running!

In other news, things I have to do this weekend: apply for 2 jobs, visit Dad, file papers, pay bills, groom dog, go to dry cleaners, do laundry, clean house, go to movie/dinner with friend, go to frame shop, finish writing a story & send to beta, go climbing, prune roses, call brother before he goes to Liberia (argh)... Can I go back to bed?

But at least it isn't sticky and gross here, although we could really do with some rain. I guess I shall take my small blessings.

It's sunny and pleasant here after last night's thunderstorms. I picked up my CSA this morning and had a kale Caesar salad. Now I'm doing laundry, watching the US Open, and contemplating whether I feel like going to Target.

Forced myself into walking more than was absolutely necessary, which was a nice walk through the Public Gardens, but now I am sweating.

I also moved a ratty sofa that apparently the neighbors put on the sidewalk in front of my house so that it's in front of their house, because WTF.

I went to Target for La Croix and pasta and accidentally also bought a cute dress and a cardigan. Now I've got the US Open back on while I try to gather the motivation to make pasta sauce.

Day 1 of the month of bachlorette life: slept in, fed the cats and myself, set a dye pot going, and am now having cold brew coffee and eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. I have not yet reverted to a feral state. Tho' I am vaguely amused & tempted by the notion of adding a shot of whipped cream vodka to my iced coffee, just because.

Pete is in the UK for all of September, helping sort & clear his mum's house so she can sell it.

The mental traps we set for ourselves are often subtle and unexpected. I need to get the VIN off Hubby's Mustang in the backyard. I want to get a spark cover for the firepit so I can have a small fire on All Hallow's without sparks going everywhere. For that, I need to measure the thing. I told myself to go do those things, and a wave of anxiety washed over me.

It's just the backyard. No, I don't often go into the backyard, but it's still just the backyard. There is nothing lurking back there--at least not in the areas I'm going into. The wood pile in the corner is not on the agenda today. But it's Something I Don't Normally Do. I can get up and go to work and go shopping, but if I step off the path, my brain goes nuts. The level of hidden fear in my life is horrifying.

Timelies all!

Went to the Renaissance Faire today. It was quite hot and humid, but we managed to keep ourselves hydrated so we didn't completely melt. Saw the acts we wanted to see. Now we're home, showered and changed and catching up on things.

The well trod path is a comfort when the rest of your world has irrevocably changed. Stepping from it, you know it isn't a matter of if but when you stumble across an emotional landmine.

Just as I got out of the pool, they spotted lightning and closed. Guess going an hour early was a good call. And it was a good swim. Both my thumbs are terribly achy ( no doubt from the railing work) but they behaved.

Well, I got the firepit measured, but when I went to double check the VIN, it began to rain heavily. And to confirm for me that the corner of the yard with the Mustang doesn't want me there, I nicked my leg on a plant frame that was hidden in the grass. It's the metal recyclers for you, Mr. Frame.

I found a number earlier on the data plate on the Mustang's door, but the DMV said they couldn't find it. I'll have to Google the format of late 60s Mustang VINS to see if I'm looking in the right place. It's probably been 20 years since that car has been registered, it may not be in the records any more.