Don't You Think
Monday. The little white box to the left is the usual (horrible, never to be mentioned in public, makes your hair turn grey) weight loss chart. I've sunk to the very depths and I apparently don't give a damn. It will remain through the month, although I have a feeling it will be an ever more embarrassing statement of failure and derision as August draws to a close. Why do I do this to myself? Probably something in the genes. Or the food. Or the air.
You've got to be kidding.
To always kid is to never kid. I have some silly sense that the truth will set you free. You free, but not me (free)? Have I uncovered the catch?
Lunch with MSR, followed by a haircut across from the office. I am antsy, I am sitting at my desk doing useful things, but only about half the time. The other half I am spacing out entertaining the idea of taking a nap. One does not take a nap at the office. One reads one's email and plods through the mess.
Tuesday. A block party is underway outside. Someone is playing Johnny Cash's Ring Of Fire at fair volume and they are barbecuing steaks and chops and chickens and eating potato salad. This is the first time I've heard of one of these on my street, a local social mixer: bring your own piece of meat and something to share, they'll provide the charcoal. Naturally I'm sitting here behind my computer peeking over the balcony from time to time, the News Hour on TV in the background, no socialization for me, by gum! Do I want to meet my neighbors? I should. Don't you think?
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