Damn good day. Woke up at 3:30, finally finished "On The Road" by Jack Kerouac. I decided I didn't like it very much. Maybe back in the 50s, when doing anything out of the ordinary was taboo it would have been fascinating and life-altering, but in this day and age when nothing comes as a surprise it's not that grand. And he's not that great of a writer, anyway. His characters weren't ... definitive.
Then I got out of bed and waddled around the house and called Esp and something else of minor importance happened and she came over and we went for a walk. Oh! My mom came home and we chatted for a bit about her Italian boyfriend to be and then Esp came over and we went for a walk in the rain -- glorious -- and I walked barefoot in jeans and a tank top through the trails of my neighborhood. Then we came across the park and ran around barefoot and did manic cartwheels and somersaults and slid down slides and rolled in the grass and played, etc. Then we walked home, splashing through the gutters.
Then I realized I was late for dinner at my dad's and ran home and changed and drove over there as fast as I could.
Perfect, right?