Off the street, tinkering with albums, soaking up sun like the lazy beloved housecat does, and reading about more Ceiling and Wall stuff, thanks to a timely Mastodon share. Will I go out tomorrow if I can help it? Signs point to no, but it may happen. Enough to do here without external obligations.
I have totally been blowing off the prompts from one of my apps about gratitude this month. I didn’t think I would think about the prompts until a conversation today while I was assembling a thing I’m going to put up Monday. But yes, doing stuff and waiting long enough for it to be novel is clutch.
Let’s mark it off, a midweek run-in with the forces can put me in a foul mood. They’re not my last resort so much as I never try to think about things I might talk about. I’m just doing the basics. Chopping water, kicking names and taking it back, way back. And now comes the holiday, with time off!
Got to say hi to someone who helped build the building a little bit. Surprisingly I gushed, but no regrets. Wild how you can leave, go someplace and come back and it’ll be all good, a thing some people get to do sometimes. Well, maybe not them other folk recently but, you know, cordial, collegial.
I stared into a Corner for about forty five minutes a few days ago. Even though I know it’s made of two normal Walls that hold things up and a natural Ceiling, it’s not a thing I seek out. I’ll need to find time to figure out ideal uses and supports, and perhaps Shelving, for (hopefully) Later On.
Wound up doing the college-grind thing today, foraging for food in refrigerators and marking time by leg stretching and a little bit of lolling in the sun. The diligence and focus felt restful after a while. If I could keep that same energy for one or two other projects tomorrow, I wouldn’t be mad.
A rare popcorn day, on the heels of a gas up and a doubling back with not enough time for coffee, before hours within the grasslands of Oklahoma, with detours for Fort Worth, Washington, D.C. and the next life, not counting the endless all too early dispatched. No Goncharov, but still deserving.
A walk along the greenway for the first time in a minute, just one foot in front of the other. Dirt stretches in the creekbed with puddles, and abandoned paperbacks, liquor bottles and clothing piles at a couple of benches, and foliage and wet pavement, cloudy skies, darker hours and cool weather.
It took me till this week’s last workday to get the hang of getting to work on close to time. As it turned out, maybe that was just in time, given what kept thousands of others from making it themselves. Convenience vs. the conveners, flight takers vs. flyer takers, time outers vs. out of timers.
Up in the darkness, with less taste for music to start because there’s more weather and cars in the way, plus one fewer lane and increased dawdling at the toll plaza. I’ll see if it changes once I get real sleep, or the holiday gets nearer. I’ll pass up tomorrow and next month’s swanky shindigs.
