Tired but Good, Man

A Thursday that feels like a Friday. Out to a little food festival with my partner and friends. A handful of tickets, doled out for chickpea curry, mini bison burgers, tourtiere, and so on. Wasps everywhere. An epi-pen in my pocket. I got out unscathed, but one of our friends was stung. Luckily, fine. We ate, we tried to find shade, we went inside the little building and had overpriced beer around tall tables.

An early birthday present: a homemade mug, a Blue Jays jersey. We drove home, carefully edging out of our street parking, boxed in by a car in front of us. One of my friends and myself standing in front and behind our car, giving hand signals. It took a minute or two, but we were out.

Home and then tea in my lovely new mug. An episode of The Wire in a minute. I'm full and tired and so grateful. For my partner, my friends, my little life. There was a point where any of those three felt impossible. But I found a way through, and not everyone I grew up with did.

Tomorrow I've got some tasks planned for a project at work. I'll hack away at those, set up a few housepainting appointments, go grocery shopping. The long weekend awaits. I don't have much planned other than a lot of nothing. Maybe my older dog will let us sleep in. He won't. But maybe.