Who Was That Masked Man?

I got up this morning stumbled into the kitchen, warmed a cup of coffee in the microwave, reached above it into the cupboard for a pinch of fish food—meant to put it in the aquarium before me. Instead I put it in my coffee.

Good morning.

I’m awake now.

I’m lusting for my office, but feel I ought to do a bit of house maintenance. So I take clothing out of the dryer—I try to do it fast—not possible. Something always falls on the floor. I stack the clean clothing on top of the dryer, pull out tee-shirts to straighten before then wrinkle—everyone is inside out—my habit. Fold clothes, a ton of towels, socks that don’t match, static electricity—oh man. I am not complaining, I'm so happy to have a washer and dryer in the house. In Hawaii we went to the Laundromat, and it was basically an all-day affair. (Remember the Hawaiian lady who told us, “Living as you are will make you appreciate everything.”) What a wise woman.

Finally after a bit of tidying up, I tell myself “Get thee to the office. That’s where you want to be anyway, and when the three-year-old gets up you won’t get the chance." Not complaining, just saying. While I am waiting for the computer to warm up I change the light bulb in the walk-in closet of the office--I'd been putting that off. It required getting a ladder, and a pliers. The set-screws of the glass cover were so stiff I couldn't loosen them with my fingers. Okay bulb replaced, cover mounted. I'm computing dum-de-dum. About an hour later I go to the kitchen to reheat my coffee. Crash! What the heck?!

The closet glass light cover is splattered all over the closet floor...

“Strange thing, time. It weighs most on those who have it lest. Nothing is lighter than being young with the world on your shoulders; it gives you a feeling of possibility so seductive, you know there must be something more important you could be doing than studying for exams.”

Great first paragraph in the book, Rule of Four. Don’t know if I like the book yet. The authors are smart, they have made sure I know that.

The other day I was rearranging my husband’s sock drawer and found a receipt from the Red Lobster restaurant dated 12/29/2010. At the top the waitress had written “Good luck on your book!”

I know she meant it for me. I must have been talking about my book, I don’t remember. The note, however, warmed me to my toes.

P.S. I'll clean up the glass eventually...