Occurs to me this morning:
It's been a long weekend. Thoughts trace inexorably back to what I was doing a year ago. I would never be able to convince you to listen to Kim Deal. Or anything. I never got to pick the music. I bought new sheets. I guess you should know that. I'm a lot happier now than I was a year ago. I mean GENERALLY, not so much this morning. Which I guess is the point: moving in the direction of 'better'. Moving, I guess, at all. That's the point. (Sometimes, you know, it's better to not run, to not move. That works too).
After a lovely Easter Sundae party, and a taxing dance rehearsal, I went home, sore, and spent the night with my new boyfriend: