Sometimes I wonder if I'm part goat.

My digestion doesn't much care what I run through it as long as I refrain from solid food until after ten o'clock in the morning, and I lay off munching at least two hours before going to bed. All the fake sugars -- aspartame, stevia, and all their friends and relations -- go down just like the real stuff, except that they don't rot my very expensively repaired teeth on the way.

I think I'll just sit here for a few minutes and count my blessings.

Last week was summer hot, and today it's cold and wet. How cold and wet? When I went to a choir board meeting this afternoon, I drove through clumps of actual sleet. On Saturday, I had the air-conditioning on. Today, the furnace is giving a boffo reprise performance of Heating The House.

The daffodils are okay with all of it. Tough guys, those daffs.

This morning's pool class finally ironed out the aches and strains I earned with my Stakhanovite stint of library maintenance on Saturday. I'm also a bit slimmer than I was last week -- some of last winter's flab has already departed.

But I do need to boost my water consumption. Unless I pretty well force myself, I can forget all about it until my throat turns Sahara dry. Should I accessorize every outfit with a water-bottle? Answers on a postcard ...