Worn souls

I have my kitty on my lap and it's lovely. He hasn't done that since, well, he was actually a kitty. Now he's a little lion. A Maine coon king of the jungle with a big, fluffy, proud mane and a long regal tail. He'd be fearsome if he wasn't such a baby. As I walked my miles today, thoughts flew in and out and throughout my head, some profound, some garbage, some incriminating, some romantic. Now everything is gone, the warmth and the fogged glasses seem to take away any organization I may have.

Being single has reminded me painfully how socially inept I am. Oh I remember now what dominated between my ears and started to form itself into angry poetry. I was hating God. But now my lines and words and flow have left me and I'm stuck with just that simple sentence and no explanation, no itemized reasons, no evidence that the argument with Him was indeed rational.

Being without a vehicle has increased the weekly distance I put under my soles. I'm up from about 20-25 when I had a working car to about 35-ish when I had an iffy car, to about 55 miles a week now that I've given up for a while. I guess it's healthy, but I'm already bones on the top of me, and my legs are already big from walking my whole life anyway, so where would the healthiness go? I think it'll just make my feet sore.

Enough.