I get grief at the gym for being so pale. It doesn’t help when I take off my shirt because I’m a dumb sweaty old dude. Dumb because I wear a lot of cotton that doesn’t help much when it’s hot. There are a bunch of us who take our shirts off, so don’t think I’m some sort of exhibitionistic anomaly. Just, perhaps, an exhibitionist.

In any case, I decided I should get some sun because I’m tired of explaining to people that the whiteness is to blind my enemies. I also decided not to overdo it, so I just sat outside with my Kindle for 15 minutes. It didn’t seem to help any, but I did forget that I walked home from breakfast and my neck feels quite burnt. At least I finished the book (and started another).

I was supposed to go to a birthday party but I ended up watching some movies instead. I’m thinking Burn After Reading wasn’t the best choice because the level of desperation seemed to be close to what I’m feeling. Nothing, of course, is as interesting as in that movie, and I’m not going to get caught up with any federal agents, but otherwise the sentiment is the same. Fortunately I also watched Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist which was just the right amount of silliness for me. Just like Gregory’s Girl when I was in high school.