it's a big lie.

It's not 60 degrees out. It's 30. It will be 30 tomorrow, and next week, and then the week after it will be 8 degrees and snowy. Must... not... rely. It feels odd running in shorts and even more odd having to manage my hair without a hat. It feels fantastic to have routes determined by where I want to go as opposed to where they've shoveled the snow.

Molly's vet called yesterday to check in. She said if Molly can't stay off her leg, we should give her sedatives to get her to stop jumping around. So Molly slept well last night, and I reclaimed my territory on the bed, and in revolt she slept with her head on my hip, which was ok.