Saturday night. This was the kind of day I look forward to during the week. I woke up and did my morning exercises, ate and showered, read the paper, write in my journal, and then went back to sleep from about 9:00 to 11:00. Went out to Subway for lunch. Spent the early part of the afternoon first listening to the UH football game (don't ask) on the radio while I did the Times Sunday crossword puzzle. I did some reading, then did some light housework (clearing stuff out of the guest bedroom in preparation for the move in January). Had an idea for a midsize collage (5x9) and put that together. Nice dinner at home, a walk at the mall, back home to answer some student emails and play a little Words with Friends. Now it feels like I've got maybe another half hour or so of reading left in me before I head off to sleep. Thinking about the day reminds me of an old Harry Chapin tune:
...it was just an any old kind of day,The part about something being left behind has been much on my mind of late as well. I've been in a strange space, not uncomfortable but not entirely settled either, where I'm trying to be alert to and appreciative of what is going on right now, since I know that I won't be here any more after January, while at the same time trying to make physical and mental preparations for the move. Needless to say, the two tendencies work against each other. Today was mostly about just trying to be here, ratcheting down a few notches.
The kind that comes and slips away,
The kind that fills up easy my lifetime.
The night brought any old kind of dark,
I heard the ticking of my heart.
Then why am I thinking something's left behind?
Anyway, I expect that tomorrow will be a little more purposeful. I've got work to do on a book I'm helping George put together. I want to read ahead in The Joy Luck Club so I can plan what the sophomores who are reading it will be up to this week in class. And I want to do some more artwork; I've been trying to re-establish that rhythm in my days.