Let me bore you.

A couple of people have told me that my blog doesn't live up to its "boring" title. Humph. I mean, let's be real. I bore myself. Here's another exciting day:

Got up and met my friend Irene. We start our walk in the park at 6:30 AM. This time of year there are about 6 or 7 people who walk that early in "our" park, and about that many who are leaving by the time we get there. Mostly just pretty casual walkers, but then again there are some like a young woman today who was running with her dog. When the dog stops to piddle on a tree, she keeps her legs pumping. Show-off.

Then I came home, showered, and took my car to be serviced. There's a story.

I love my car. It's a 2004 Honda Civic Hybrid. We bought it last August I guess. Took it on a two-month cross-country trip to everywhere really: Chicago, Mall of America in Minneapolis, the Badlands, Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone, Glacier National Park, Devil's Tower, Crater Lake, Seattle, Salem OR, Northern CA, Lake Tahoe, collected a lot of Capitols, etc. Got great mileage and never got a scratch or a ding on the car. Drove 8,000 miles total.

Fast forward to this last trip to MA, Vermont, NH and Maine. It's closing in on a year that we've had this car, and no one has yet banged their car door into it hard enough to leave a ding. I'm getting nervous. You just know that first ding has to happen. I'm parking away from everyone else, especially cars with those big, big doors. One evening I park and decide that the car next to us on my side is too close for comfort. I just KNOW that those people are going to come back to their big ole car and DING me. So I decide to back up to park somewhere else. I swing back and around, and scratch my car on some building material that is piled by the swimming pool. (The motel is remodeling.) Arghhhhhhh. I'm SO MAD AT MYSELF. S**t. How can I be so stupid?

Okay, so back to this boring blog day that I'm currently in. I take the car to the place we bought it, get it inspected, serviced, washed, and they tell me that they don't do body work there. I'll have to make another appointment at a different place for that. Those guys.

They have a nice waiting-area arrangement there. I watched a middle-aged woman dressed in tight, expensive exercise clothes smile and flirt with the service manager. (She wasn't going to exercise. Bet she never sweats.) She kept touching his arm, batting her eyes. A rich bitch in heat is not a pretty picture.

On the way home I pass a Dairy Queen. Do I actually PASS it? No. I stopped. Now Dairy Queen has some little bitty ice cream cones that even Weight Waters will allow on their diet. Do I get one of those? 'Course not. I get a banana split. I tell myself that it's fruit, protein (I got the nuts on it.), and dairy. Health food.

Two hours later, Niks and I meet our friends Don and Leah for lunch at Perkins. I got a salad, 'cause I'm so good. After that I get the French Silk Chocolate pie. 'Cause I'm so bad. Oh, well. Some days.