When you race out after breakfast to photograph the rubbish bags in an area not your own ... for that blogpost you wrote elsewhere.
And on the way home, after rubbish bag photography where you bluffed that yes, I'm meant to be doing this, you are picked up by a Jehovah's Witness doing her work. (I mistook her for a friendly Belgian out there on the suburban streets, between the supermarket and home.)
And unable to be rude, you obediently give her your home address, so she can come check whether you read that religious tract she just gave you.
Then you have that hour long appointment with a woman so wise that she makes you smile ... work on photographs, put the laundry through and vacuum.
You open the stunningly excellent carrot and cardamom bio soup you picked up from the supermarket because a truly generous yoga instructor is calling by, just to show you that you can do yoga without your injured neck popping out and all over the place.
And you talk photography with her because she wants to learn the how of it and you love sharing what you know.
Well ... it's been a day like that so far. The photograph ... the street I wandered home along earlier this morning.
