A man just held the door open for me to a single person restaurant bathroom. The door opened inward, which meant standing side by side between the toilet and the overlarge trash can.

Writing a blog is different than writing a diary. A diary isn’t for an audience and is more of a processing tool. I’ve kept diaries on and off for many years, and re-reading them is one of the more painful experiences.

It took me until almost 9:30am today to remember it was April Fools. I had breakfast with S., commuted, and saw my first client without even thinking about it. I even saw some snippets of the news and read another chapter in my book without it occurring to me.

There are two boxes of tissues on the windowsill of one of the gyms I train in. Today, I watched an old woman waddle into the room and stick her finger into the first box. She was checking how many tissues it contained.

There’s a woman sitting across from me. She has shoulder length gray hair and black framed glasses. She is white and wears what I would call a “small puffer” Patagonia vest.