...although we know that's never going to happen, not in one day. But apparently, if my math is correct, I can walk ten miles a day when I need to, which I did do from Tuesday at noon to Thursday at noon.
The truth is that I didn't get everything done that I wanted to. I did, however, pick up the new issue of Saga, plus the second issue of Marvel's Star Wars (which is surprisingly good, having art by John Cassady certainly helps), and a few various others, at the comic book store voted "best in [this city] but honestly wouldn't even qualify for best in Kentucky, and spent a few minutes in their bathroom, which they share with a lingerie shop, in a building that the Victorian houses in Boston would have deemed "futuristic" but had only enough room for a contortionist from Cirque de la Soliel to be able to wipe his ass in.
I don't really think I walked twenty miles, because I'm converting from my cell's pedometer apps, which are not known for pinpoint accuracy, because they measure steps and are not too great at it. Plus, since they measure steps, and I know my gait is shorter than most other people, the conversion process can't be accurate. But fifteen miles in two days? I can believe that.
The city is one I could see myself living in, the job is one I know I would excel at, the boss already likes me from prior dealings and if not for the whiff of saltwater blowing in from the bay, which I did not know was probably the smell of fish because it smelt to me like farts (perhaps, then, fish farts), I could find no fault with living there.
In two weeks, says the boss, he'll be able to make the offer. In six, I should be there, working in their new facilities. By May, I will be in my apartment.
Life is going to be good again, soon.