There are certain activities that almost always make me feel better, and I suppose it’s part of my conditioning, since from the time I was quite small convertibles were part of life. So a long drive, in the luscious dusk of Vancouver in July, was just the ticket; also, more pragmatically, I was supposed to check that the dash lights were working. I also enjoy being able to help people, and knowing that I was going to reduce Keith’s ride into town by about an hour and a half helped.
Keith was full of feels and family news. He didn’t have his jacket so I reluctantly rolled up the window, and we enjoyed a simply wonderful ride home in the MR2; and Jeff’s car collected two compliments while I was out. I ripped BC Ferries off for four dollars as I flatly refused to pay for parking. (Not getting the job at the parking lot machine company has made me even more grumpy about paying for parking. I checked for drones; there being none, I just sat there in the lot.)
One of my aliens (Michel, since mOm will want to know) just said, “I wish your mouth was shorter and your fuse was longer.” Another character just accused another of practicing lemonade stand feminism. He he.
I have coffee, I have arrowroot biscuits, and a book and a half to finish. Better get back to it.