Got back bigger refund than expected. Hooray! A rare instance of a pleasant surprise. Money makes my day.
A very good sit down at Enchante. It was rainy in the morning, and cleared up. The cafe was full. I got a good seat. The whole thing felt great, except for a smelly homeless guy who had mental problems yelling randomly. I hate homeless people, I don't care. I don't pity them or want to do anything to help. If you really wanted to help, to save someone's life, you have to go all in. Compassion and some spare change and time volunteering at a shelter don't cut it. These are people we're talking about with entire lives that go on 24 hours a day. I don't give a shit.
I don't give a shit about sorting garbage now either. I read somewhere that while recycling went up, the garbage company had to charge more for some reason. It should be the other way around. I don't care about recycling very much any more. It's no longer an unquestioned thing I do. It doesn't make me sad if I throw a bottle away. Whatever. No shit whatsoever now. These small gestures and motions and bits and votes–fuck that noise, all of it. Give me big and real and immediate or nothing.
I love my spreadsheet. It's a throbbing source of comfort and joy that keeps on giving, a passive radiation of good feelings. It warms my heart.