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sound of rain and traffic jams.

Breezing in from the Outland, rainy season, and most of my thoughts reduced to insignificant "point-form" extrapolations because of (1) too much wine last night, (2) a "cursed week" of unfortunate circumstances beyond my control, and (3) not enough rest. I sat in a coffee shop this morning for half an hour to drink hot chocolate and burn off psychosis before it grew too much to handle. Either way, I'm home now and I have a couple hours to fill up with pitiful bodily concerns (shaving, food preparation and consumption, personal grooming, clothing) before I blast off for work again, rocket-man.

Yesterday, I woke up exactly six minutes after I was supposed to be out the door for work.

I have, on the other hand, reached an elastic moment of zen tranquility because without spontaneous combustion and/or a firing squad, there's not much more ridiculous and frustrating that this week can be. Instead, I coast along.

I got a postcard in the mail addressed to someone else yesterday, and must deliver it soon. Tuesday, in fact. I will deliver it on Tuesday.

Comments (2)

joy:

I hope that was ok. :) You can read it, you know. I just don't have her address.

ben:

I got to the bit about the cute delivery boy and smiled. Then I stuck it in my bag so that when I see her, I can give it over.

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