Today, out and about:
To the organic, fair-trade coffee bar in the site of the former Joe Jr's diner, with the perfectly weathered blue barn boards and multiple compost stations bearing instructions, with tiny tables and raw wood stools that are too high for your feet to rest comfortably on the ground, and yet have no lower bar on which to perch a foot: your coffee tastes like cold-brew dirt. However, your barista (barrister?) is very handsome and your organic peaches are very juicy.
Elsewhere, in the mental sphere, it occurs to me that "The Muppets Take Manhattan" might have been more than just a movie to me, it might have been an unconscious life choice.
In the physical sphere, I note that the fine network of collagen that holds my body more or less together is showing subtle signs of breaking down. Thirty-nine and a third. Not bad.