Yesterday, an older man sat half on top of me on the bus, didn’t apologize, and then tried to manspread hard. He shoved his leg against my thigh, while chatting with another older man across the aisle. I don’t play that, and just kept my leg rigid, so after a while he gave up trying to get me to move, and got off the bus. I don’t know why he wanted me to move. I don’t care.

This morning, my young next door neighbor texted me to tell me he had accidentally left his cat outside in his back yard in a cat stroller, and then he had left the house. He asked me to bring the cat in, and gave me the door combination. That cat was not happy about the whole thing. I was pretty amused.

Later in the morning, my senior citizen French teacher got into it with one of his students, a Russian woman who was asking a question I also wanted to know the answer to. She persisted in asking it. He threatened to go to the office and have her removed. Another student admonished her for being disrespectful.

Then I raised my hand and asked approximately the same question, and he answered it.

It is not the first time this particular interaction has occurred in class, with all the same characters but a different question.

I left class early. I told my adult kid that the Russian woman’s mistake is that she is sitting right in front of him and she has a harsh voice and a grumpy face, which is not her fault.

In the afternoon, I went to get my monthly massage. I told the massage therapist I was going to a fountain pen convention in August, and he asked me what I used my fountain pens for. I said writing, and told him I was published. The therapist told me he is writing a book about an ancestor whose diary he owns, a young man who was in the Army in San Francisco just after the Civil War. It was a pleasant conversation except while we were talking, he was blinding me with pain, using his elbows.

Tomorrow the temperature is supposed to go over 100°F (38°C). I’m getting my teeth cleaned at 4:00pm. Oh happy day.

I may not take the French class again in the fall, assuming I don’t get squashed flat on the bus between now and then.