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8:48 a.m. - February 01, 2003
Gung hoy fat choy or something like that
Slept in this morning until 7:00, then had hot chocolate and the paper, my CNN and the space shuttle; wasn't the Challenger anniversary just last week?

In a few hours I'm going to work - yes, I'm back to work and the agency was glad to hear from me yesterday; Wendy had been worried and there was a lump in my throat, partial relief to think I matter, partial satisfaction to know I can come and go as I will and still be one of the favorites. Literally, the month of January was a wash but it is now February and one cannot drag his feet too long. I'm feeling better - yesterday afternoon I could feel the doldrums subsiding and after doing a few windows I called it a day and went to the nursery and bought soil and plants for the backyard and it was warm - too warm, even - and I relaxed on the grass and watched the birds make a mess with the birdseed.

But strange; en route to the nursery I stopped at the used book store and sat in my car and didn't go in. As soon as I had turned off the ignition I lost interest and sat there, watching people. I have too many unread books on my To Read shelf as it is; no sense in adding to the pile just yet. And by the way, I've been informed that I should refer to the Cherokee as a truck, not a car and I don't care; it has four doors and lacks an open back so it's not a truck, right? I don't know. I don't get a testosterone thrill to say My Truck - check that; I do. My truck my truck my truck. When will I ever grow up and be a man?

Am working for a Chinese New Year celebration and I'm glad to be back at work. I'm disturbed by the doldrum-severity and surprised; maybe less surprised than I ought to be? Maybe my blues are always like this but I never noticed. I dislike the hypogeal and I've had enough of the dark.

It is chilly and my toes cold. Have a blessed Saturday, all.

 

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