When I’m extra hormonal (really, you didn’t notice the all-whine super cranky format of the last few days?) I become psychotic about personal space.
I’m a nut about personal space on a good day anyway but yesterday I went to the Farmer’s Market to get my sausage, I’ll have to take a picture of this sandwich one day because it’s the best food ever and I don’t love meat, and there was this mouth-breather in line behind me crowding my space. He was so close he could have dipped my hair in his coffee.
It was a nice day. This is a friendly town. In a normal world I would have struck up a conversation with the guy about the sunshine and long line and how life-changing these sausages are. Instead, I stood there grinding my teeth and thinking evil thoughts about his damp breath on my neck.
Oh well, I won’t bore you with the details but I think the mood will be changing here shortly and not a moment too soon.
I’ll end this on a more positive note. I’m no bird expert but there is what I believe is a Blue Heron that lives downtown. Who knows the habits of the heron, this isn’t the Discovery Channel, maybe there are more than one. But at least once or twice a week in the early morning I see it flying through downtown and sometimes it passes right by my window. I can’t possibly convey what an amazing sight it is to see this enormous bird float by so gracefully. Fabulous photo, not by me, here.
