Saturday called for painting. After talking about it for 5 years or so, the property committee guy at the church got the handyman to build twenty-couple stalls for hanging choir robes, in the hallway to which we, the volunteer choir, have been relegated. So now instead of having about 4 inches each, we'll have about 9, plus our very own shelf (too high for short people to reach). The paint was the same color of beige as the plywood, which means it's really hard in limited light to know if you've actually painted the whole thing, but likewise hard to know if somebody hasn't. Close enough for ecclesiastical back-room work, I guess. Perhaps a 2nd coat will be in order one day.

So anyway, got up early, pushed through getting 2 loads of laundry done in time to make the 10am call (timed to coincide with a rehearsal for the other choir, so we knew the place would be open). Paint through lunchtime, wash up, discover lots of paint on the soles (and some elsewhere) of my sandals, so I walked around barefoot during the cleaning up phase, and then started the process of letting sidewalks wear the paint off the soles.

So that's Saturday, pretty much. Got home about 3 with my lunch still in the bag, so I ate it. Fed the cat around 5:30 or 6, and was still hungry, so I did my usual Saturday Lunch meal: bacon, eggs, and hash-browned potatoes.

The lawn needed mowing when I got home.

Back to the scene of the crime on Sunday. Except, oops, there's that seriously unpublicized closure of all the streets in the neighborhood of Beacon Hill, so that the police department can have some kind of a run. And since it's the cops, apparently they don't need a license, and so it doesn't show up in the usual public website kinds of places. Most of the choirfolk were delayed arriving. (The seriously gay associate choirmaster & organist apologized, saying, "or so I hear; being a pedestrian." From the peanut gallery: "You've never been pedestrian.")

And attendance at Mass was thin, partly because of the holiday, and partly because nobody who doesn't live in the neighborhood could actually get there without serious creativity.

Left there for the half mile or so hike to where I could find parking (legal, thank you very much), and thence to toxicfur's place, arriving a half hour earlier than she was expecting. I've become my father. Sorry. Changed, slathered on sunscreen, and we went to a baseball game at Fenway Park, courtesy of the social club at my employer, which buys up a block of tickets for 4 games a year, or so. This year, in the sun-drenched outfield bleachers. From which I was almost entirely unable to follow the progress of batted balls. The home team lost by one run, with the not-so-ace reliever giving up a walk and a home run in the 9th inning. Still, they kept it close, and with the number of players out injured, that in itself is kind of remarkable.

Rather than share the subway with 38,000 of our closest friends, we walked back to chez toxicfur, about 4 miles, including a very pleasant stroll through the campus of Boston University, which I hadn't seen before, and then up the river on the Cambridge side.

I was tired when I got home, and otherwise unhurt except that apparently I had failed to sunscreen the inside of my elbows, which I noticed in the shower this morning. It's odd, having the sensation that the water is very hot on some parts of the body and pleasantly warm everywhere else.

So then today, the order of business, now that we're past (I think) the date of the last recorded hard frost, was to plant the vegetable garden. So I went farther afield than I usually do to one of those radial arteries that bears almost due northeast from Boston.

First stop: bike shop. I guess I got there too early on a holiday. They were open, and said hello when I came in, but nobody seemed to be available to have the "I want a casual riding-around bike that's not outrageously expensive" conversation with me. I did see the price tags on some of their models, so I know what's outrageous nowadays. Input for the sticker-shock phase of buying things is important, I guess.

Anyway, sometimes I'm Just Not In The Mood for shopping, and that set in fairly quickly, so I left. I don't know what that's about. I blame some combination of not quite ready for business and a quasi-autistic "fuck-off" field I seem to exude sometimes.

Second stop: garden center, by which time my mood had recovered somewhat. I found a parking space at the furthest point in the lot from the vegetable department, so I got yet more exercise. I found some plants, though: 3 varieties of tomatoes, broccoli and cauliflower (5 or 6 plants each); a sunflower, mostly for decoration; a pea vine (sugar-snap peas), and some seeds for radishes, some kind of funky mixed-color carrots, and some lettuce. And a couple pots of herbs: thyme and cilantro to go with the basil I planted last week, and the rosemary that's not adjusting too well to being outdoors again. There's also a return of last year's tarragon and something else (marjoram, maybe?) in the herb garden.

The strawberry plant is making fruit, some of which is actually ripe. And tasty.

And so for the third time, no, fourth, in three days, that I came in, washed off dirt and/or sweat, changed clothes, and collapsed into my chair.

It's been a good weekend. Perhaps the coming week will be easier because of it.