But that was yesterday. Today I left the house looking fabulous and color-coordinated with my purse.
Today I drove to Sacramento to get a mammogram. Last year when I got a mammogram, I said it was to find out whether I get to keep my right breast for another year. This time I guess I'm only going to find out whether I get to keep it for another six months, since six months from now I have to get an MRI to find out about the next six months. Edit: I get to keep it! Hooray!
Later today, I received, online, a romantic overture from a self-proclaimed space alien, located across the country from me, who claimed that if we didn't live so far away from one another, I would be a perfect partner for him. The space alien claimed that everyone refuses his romantic overtures due to his refusal to provide photographs of himself, even though he provides a great deal of far more relevant information about himself and has in fact publicly posted detailed answers to more than 8,000 questions about himself. I said that the usefulness of his answers to the more than 8,000 questions was seriously limited by the fact that he had answered them all in his persona as a space alien, and although I have nothing really against dating space aliens, I suspected him of not actually being one, and therefore I suspected a great many of his answers of not actually being accurate. I also said that if, on the other hand, his answers really are accurate, then people are probably at least as much put off by his stated willingness to torture animals (for the benefit of his planet's scientific knowledge!) as they are by his unwillingness to provide photographs. He said, "unfortunately [truth] is non-applicable in this present society." Well, don't be surprised if many members of this present society disagree with you about that. (Another off-putting trait that I pointed out to him was his propensity to post public transcripts of his conversations with people, including their names. Although I'm omitting his name here, I am perhaps doing a diminished form of "turnabout is fair play.")
Even later today, Boston and I ran/walked two miles in 27 minutes, walking only when crossing intersections. I may possibly not be stagnating at the same skill level forever, even if it sometimes feels like it.
And after that, I brought Boston back into the back yard, gave her dinner, refilled her water bowl, watered the potted plants on my back patio, and went back out in front by myself for a shorter, slower walk to contemplate the neighborhood. I went less than half a block before ending up sitting on the sidewalk with a half-grown kitten in my lap. I mean, it meowed at me and came running, so what could I do but stop to pet it and sit down with it? And then it climbed into my lap and decided to curl up there for the next half hour. Actually it wanted to stay longer; I was the one who decided, after half an hour of sitting on the sidewalk in front of someone else's house with someone else's kitten on my lap, that I should probably try to gently ease the kitten off my lap and go home. So I did this, and felt I had succeeded very well at it, until - after the kitten had been successfully eased off my lap, when I was in the process of standing up again to go home - the kitten decided to bite me, rather viciously, leaving a deep tooth-hole in my palm. Apparently I did not have its permission to get up and leave. This is what I get for attempting to have a nonexclusive relationship with Stardust: Stardust is not much of a lap kitty, but she also doesn't try to kill me just because I sometimes dare to stop paying attention to her.