Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.

It pleases me to think of myself as a modest person, or at least not much of a bragger. A fact, however, is a fact – I am looking pretty hot as of late. No kidding. Perhaps it’s the fact that doing pullups and pushups makes me feel less impotent when I see that six-year-olds are more capable than I am of navigating the city, or perhaps my food intake (somewhat reduced, seemingly, while in Italy) and perhaps it’s the walking (my travel between home and the archive puts between three and six kilometers of wear and tear on my shoes every day here) but I am visibly closer (only closer, mind you) to the pair of washboard abs I always wanted when I was sixteen and couldn’t have gotten myself a date to save my life than I have been since I was sixteen and couldn’t have gotten myself a date to save my life.