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Tuesday, November 29, 2005

When I work, I make myself at home. Because, you know, I am at home. On these miserable wintry days (not that Iím complaining, ha), I bundle up in sweats as soon as I get back from my morning errands. These are the same sweats I was wearing from the time I got up until the I left for my errands, except during the few minutes I was jumping into and out of the shower.

In other words, I spend my day in comfort clothes. I find it a lot more comfortable that way, but I canít walk the 500 feet or so to the road for my mail, late in the afternoon when itís starting to get even darker than it was all day, in sweats and slippers. So at about 4 pm every day I go through the ritual of getting into a pair of Leviís and finding my shoes for the mini-trek to the mailbox.

Every day itís like that, and every day I grumble and groan about having to change clothes in the middle of the day for a five-minute chore. Today was no exception. At the appointed time, when I knew the mail would have been delivered, I got into my jeans and sneakers and headed out the front door.

Then I remembered. Because todayís post brought me one the holiday packages Iíd ordered on line over the weekend, my postal carrier had kindly and thoughtfully brought my mail to the door. Two hours earlier. Sheíd knocked and Iíd thanked her as she handed it to me, and somehow it hadnít registered that this meant I wouldnít have to change clothes and wouldnít have to walk out in the cold gloaming to get my mail — which was already here!

29 November 2005

Stormy sunset.

Not very bright, eh? Creature of habit, and all that, but still. Youíd think a person of reasonable intelligence would take a little closer notice of the events of the day, especially when it came to a task thatís such a burden in the first place. But the worst, most telling part of the story is this: This was the second time this has happened to me in the last week. Brilliant.

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Well, sure, Iíve been listening to Rilo Kiley and Merrie Amsterburg and Francis Dunnery and Tim Christensen on Rhapsody. Most of these are new discoveries for me, although theyíve all been around for a while. I really love Rilo Kiley and I just about melted when I first heard Madeleine Peyroux. But guess what. Right now Iím listening to Beethovenís Fifth Symphony, by the Vienna Philharmonic. The only problem is that with Rhapsody thereís a default gap of a second or two between tracks, and that kind of messes up the transition between the third and fourth movements. (Next Iíll search for Mendelssohnís Violin Concerto, one of my very favorites. The E Minor, of course.)

For other journal recommendations, check out the links page.

One year ago: Tug of War
"Necessity and lethargy shoved me back and forth like a pair of sixth grade bullies today (and thatís a class of humanity that Iím only too familiar with, even lo these many years later)."

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