wildcat

Twenty to five (ish) and I'm about to start work and the day's already been pretty busy.

1. 7:55 - wake up, shower, tuck Michael back into bed and reset his alarm.

2. 8:30 - board bus while listening to Sook-Yin Lee talk about manifestos on a Definitely Not the Opera podcast. Question Lee's skill as an host in comparison with Nora Jones a few years back. Look favourably on Jones, less favourably on Lee -- her chosen persona seems too superficial and glossy.

3. 9:00 - get to Moka House, contemplate why exactly I'm at Moka House, order a hot chocolate and spend an hour or so writing bits for the novel which will probably end up dumped in the long run.

4. 10:00 - Jenny arrives, we head out to Dallas Road for a good long walk in the brisk Autumnal air. We sit for a while on a bench and stare at a lighthouse we've never noticed before.

5. 11:25 - End up at Cafe Mulatta and eat lunch.

6. 12:30 - Part ways, I head home while listening to the Veronica Mars soundtrack. Some good, poppish tracks and a couple less interesting ones. Tegan & Sara continue to impress with their vocals (but, sadly, not their lyrics).

7. 12:45 - Take a couple loads of laundry over to the Sparklebright Laundromat and dump them into machines for cleaning. Write a letter to Joy while I sit on a big plastic counter thing, legs crossed, observing the various ins-and-outs of laundromat customers. There are no children fidgeting with the change machine. There are no children. Finish the letter, stare at the dryer until it stops, load up everything and take it home with Sarah McLachlan.

8. 2:35 - Once I'm home again, dump the laundry, sort it, shove reading materials back into my backpack, make sure the pen's there too, sit on my ass and stare at the screen for a while, fingers flying. No writing is accomplished.

9. 3:56 - Chug out to the bus stop in time for the #6 with Annie Lennox followed by Basement Jaxx. Then Handsome Boy Modelling School. The bus is crowded, slow, disjointed, with the usual assortment of smells and poorly-lit ambience. Michael calls, I miss it, I text him that I'll call him back; he was supposed to go shopping with his mother today. The bridge is down, things go smoothly.

10. 4:30 - Arrive at work early, leave a message on Michael's voicemail, decide to write pointlessly detailed blog entry accounting my day, answer work phone on my own time, massage my neck, consider the next four hours, the fact that I haven't had time to buy groceries this week, et cetera. No music, just the roiling murmur of library patrons.