I tend to measure my enjoyment of events by material objects lost or damaged without dents in my equanimity; in that spirit, I lost my clip-ons (again), and ripped a fashionable hole in one pair of jeans on Sunday and Monday. Saturday was a lost cause; ladies, if Midol and hot water bottles aren't doing it, I strongly recommend a soak in the hottest water you can stand.

Sunday morning I went to the farmer's market (in that way you do when you are cat/plant/house-sitting, and incidentally have a car), which had a guitarist performing such classics as Johnny Cash and Greenday. Not quite back to back, but the set list could have doubled as a Songs ase Would Sing at Karaoke playlist. It blows my mind that the guitar repertoire now moves from Folsom Prison Blues to Nimrod without much pause.

Monday was supposed to be my personal day from work, complete with hiking up a mountain. Instead of getting an early start, I hit the snooze button, fed the cats, and generally delayed. So I hit the trail at 1:30 PM rather than the original 10 AM goal. I had a great time until I ran out of water and checked my watch; I think I can do five miles in two hours on flat land, but five miles on a mountain is out of the question. Pictures to follow; most are boring to anyone not me, but have great sentimental value for the enjoyment I associate with capturing them.

So, after three hours of hiking, and a stop to purchase and down 32 oz of gatorade in 5 minutes or less, as well as post-hike cleanup, I was late for my evening plans - birthday dinner for twistedchick, at Jaleo - but I'd previously said I was not going to be on time, so no surprises there. I saw ellen_fremedon, cinco, and several other people whose usernames escaped me, but I did recognize kinetikatrue and coyotegestalt, who were sitting across from the remaining free seat when I came in. I got to pick through the remnants of several dishes of tapas, and eventually flagged the waitress down for the "won't kill you with lactose" menu. Suggesting that we just split the bill cut down the bistromathics significantly, which left more time for socializing. I wound up giving the birthday girl, coyotegestalt, and kinetikatrue rides home, then took a series of wrong turns that culminated at the Dunkin' Donuts in one of the sketchier neighborhoods at 10 at night.

Today I was treated to my very own birthday lunch - sushi, in the form of an eel roll, and shrimp nigiri-style, with a seaweed salad and delicious gyoza - by one of my supervisors, and somehow managed to fill an entire evening after work with nothing more substantial than life with cats, plants and a stove to cook on, so here I am, busted at midnight. My supervisors will be so pleased when I stumble in, zombie-like, tomorrow morning. If anyone asks, I intend to blame the impending solstice, and make light of my feckless socializing.