In the past hour, I ...

I haven't read a paper in 15 years (except sections I put out).

I used to read 3-5 a day.

Other than that, nuthin.

 

Drove to Hamilton with JR for breakfast and then went for a walk at a nearby conservation area, followed by a long meandering drive home on every windy backroad I could find. And I did all the driving (this NEVER happens).

 

Ogled a couple of 30-something Mexican women in bikinis, watched a pretty fit-looking Indian guy get tired and start to struggle (before being rescued by a lifeguard), and plunged my not-quite-as-fat-ass into the 70-degree water one last time.

 

Realized I lost my bus pass, which I'd just reloaded, and had to take an overpriced cab home on a holiday evening.

 

Texted my nephew to remind him that today is his grandmother's birthday. Read fifteen pages of Marie Kondo's first book and decided when to start doing kon-mari on my house. Answered e-mail firming up time and date for interview for a story. Struggled to get a decent picture for campus security for my ID for my volunteer gig. Toyed with the idea of sending favorite pic of me dressed as cowgirl. Decided they might not accept a pic of a five year old. Went through same elimination process over pictures of quokkas, red pandas, three-toed sloths, and pallas cats. I hate ID pictures.

 

SMALL HANDS!!!!

 

Watched Six-Inning Jake throw 34 pitches in the first two innings while giving up a homer to Josh Bell, ate a Manny Sanguillen BBQ pulled pork sandwich, eyed up the Iron City vendor, and bought a 50/50 ticket.

 

I want to know more about the sandwich.

 

2.1 inning Jake limps off the mound. Probably headed for those sandwiches.

 

Second take ...

... I mowed. That was the hour. I mowed.

I swear, an entire day is colored by the fact that at some point, I'll have to mow.

And I wish I had that gardener's gene and could look at the lawn afterward and bask in a job well done. But I don't. I just think that I'm going to have to mow again next weekend.

 

Mowed my postage stamp yard, ate leftovers from last night's birthday dinner, drank two beers, farted multiple times, took out the trash.

 

You're cool, so I'll only hate you for four minutes.