7:13 a.m. - September 13, 2004
Cogito
Overnight the earth tilted just enough so that this morning I couldn't see the sunrise due to cloud cover. If I were the expressive type I'd do ablutions in the backyard or let loose a modified holler, but how delicious to wake in the middle of the night and realize the room was cold and snuggle deeper into the blanket.
Printed out the student workbook and burned it to disc; overnighting it later today. Please God, let me be done with this project. Final obscene gesture is the toner light flashing on the printer.
This is a coffee morning. I don't drink coffee, at least not since I was an undergraduate. College student in Seattle, ergo one drinks coffee like a precieuse (or was it just the English majors?). Tasha and I would have our coffees over the Sunday paper - amusing to look back and remember that while finances were tough during college, that subscription was an essential - or we'd head up to Tully's to sit outside on a blustery morning to chat with people. Anyway - I'm missing a ritual infused with the luxury of time and appreciation. I can't think of anything I do during the day that is luxurious or savored in the least, a patch of time wherein it's simply me time.
Rush, rush, rush but I never go or arrive anywhere. Unsettling.
