That happened late this morning, on a several-blocks walk in actual sunlight that I wanted to soak in and feel. Turned out part of my walk went past a building that had had a 911 call come from it, and an officer pulled up. "You're not in trouble," she said twice during the two minutes or so we talked, but man, did I feel like I could be. I did my best to make it obvious that I just happened to be walking by and was carrying only a Terry Pratchett novel.
Yeah.
The rest of the day? Restful. Laundry, reading (the Pratchett book in question: 2012's Dodger, about Victorian London), listening to jazz, and following friends who were attending and working this year's Emerald City ComiCon. I got a taste of how neat and how exhausting the event was; I also got a reminder that I miss it. I've only been to ECCC once, in 2010. Heck, I miss Seattle, at least as a visiting place. Last time I was there? Also in 2010. (Went there two weeks in a row. For me that's almost a jetsetter life.)
