to say nothing of the dog

Thursday, November 11, 2004

I'm Going to Hell.

I was going to post about, you know, being told that I was going to hell, but it's a nice day, and that trumps going to hell anytime. (For the record, it first pissed me off, and then I was kinda proud of it. Haven't been told that for...oh, six months?)

This morning...I slept in.

Really.

Because I have the day off.

I had shortbread for breakfast.

I went for a walk in Central Park with Adam and the Elmer-beast. All the leaves are falling off. You can almost see midtown from the top of the Great Hill. In the winter, the spire of the Empire State Building peeks out in between the bare branches.

I might go to the bookstore later.

For someone who has been working 13 hours a day, doing the day job, going to class, and getting the play off the ground, it is glorious to roll around on the bed and feel sheets on your backbone. Mattress pressing up against your skin, instead of the polyester woven fabric of an office chair. Light that comes from the glowing ball in the sky, and not the overhead lamp. Snorty dog instead of snorty bosses.


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