Rain

Well it's raining to beat the band outside.

Sweet jesus, did I just really type that? I must be getting old.

But it really is raining. My yoga pants got all wet because I wore them outside and when I got to yoga my mat got all wet from my pants and then we were doing inversions and the teacher used my mat to demonstrate and I thought, oh crap, she's going to think I'm a sweaty hog. To her credit, she didn't bat an eye. And I almost got into a headstand! Yay for me.

On my way home (and on my way there) I passed a dead baby bird on the sidewalk. It was very young; it didn't even have feathers. I felt so sad for it, mostly because there's something about laying dead on a city sidewalk that feels colder than laying dead in the forest. When I was little I used to bury the smaller roadkill, mainly chipmunks, that I'd find when I was out on bike rides. And I used to think this was just because I was one weird kid but now I realize it was compassion.

Along with the fact that I was one weird kid.

Anyways if I'd had a paper towel or a plastic bag with me I would have picked up the baby bird and put it somewhere more respectful.