Walked out into the early morning to dry sunny winter, much colder than Tokyo's (the pinching sensation in the nostrils when you breathe in never happens there) but just as invigorating. Back to that February morning in Ebisu a baker's dozen of years ago, meeting up with Fearless Leader. This morning finally there was no deadly smooth ice melt-freeze on the sidewalk, now that we're back to polar vortex, and thus no need for grippers: and so a happy trot to the subway instead of a clumping tick-tack one with a cane.
And at the exchange station, Bloor and Yonge, buskers were playing Pachelbel's Canon on a violin and accordion, which managed to be both loud and soothing at the same time.
(Why Doctors Are Weird: Dr B looks at my chart. 'Last year you were ten pounds less than the year before, and this year you're nine pounds lighter than last year. Are you trying to do that?' Lady, if weight had been falling off me without effort, be sure I'd have said something about it before now.)
