The Weekends
Tuesday. Another day on the farm, a day like many recent days, a day during which I should have done more (in a more perfect world) but did less (without regret). One thing about doing less, if you do less each and every day, you eventually get it done, diddle-dee-done, whatever it is they're thinking you should do, doodle-dee-doo, so why sweat it? Or am I setting a bad example? Here in Oakland?
I bought a birthday card for my nephew today and I'll send it to him tomorrow with a little something inside, which is what an uncle should do, doodle-dee-do, except a proper uncle, an uncle who knows his place in the universe, would have sent the card two weeks ago so that it might have arrived in time for his birthday.
I'm remiss in many ways these days: photographs promised, but not delivered: birthdays remembered, but too late; email received, but not answered. You get the drift. I'm not sure what it means, but I suspect I'm trying to tell myself something that could be useful to know. The internal I shutting down my system unless I change my ways? Make my life simpler, less complicated and add a nap after lunch? I like the nap after lunch, difficult though they may be to arrange except on the weekends.
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