life, meet art
I've had a post brewing for some time now about the deep sense of satisfaction I feel in knowing that somewhere deep within the suburbs of Sydney, madalone is catching up on The West Wing. After over a decade of gentle suggestions, outright nagging, and funny/relevant quotes left to dangle in the breeze while she blinked at me like I was crazy, I feel like she will FINALLY understand me. It's a relief.
There's just so much for her to draw on. Danny Concannon is a given, but now she'll get what I mean when I tell her that I've spent the day working on a secret plan to fight inflation. Or when I insist that I have to get up early for the gym because the hour between five and six AM is my time (I can work out! I can think about personal matters!). Or when I compare a long meeting to the fjords (then we got a history of the fjords...then we got a quiz on the fjords...).
Unfortunately, this also means that she'll be able to join in the mocking that will surely follow my confession that this morning, while out for a run during my time, the cord of my headphones became entangled in some low-hanging branches, and I (like Jed Bartlett) came to a sudden arboreal stop.
In other, slightly less ridiculous news, my parents have been full of advice about my pending trip to Spain. My father has been particularly helpful, warning me to beware of the following things:
1. sailors
2. drunken sailors
3. sailors "in from the port"
4. sailors on Las Ramblas
5. sailors out for a walk at night
Also, drugs in Ibiza (where we are not going). So...I guess I'm all set, then. Thanks, Dad!
There's just so much for her to draw on. Danny Concannon is a given, but now she'll get what I mean when I tell her that I've spent the day working on a secret plan to fight inflation. Or when I insist that I have to get up early for the gym because the hour between five and six AM is my time (I can work out! I can think about personal matters!). Or when I compare a long meeting to the fjords (then we got a history of the fjords...then we got a quiz on the fjords...).
Unfortunately, this also means that she'll be able to join in the mocking that will surely follow my confession that this morning, while out for a run during my time, the cord of my headphones became entangled in some low-hanging branches, and I (like Jed Bartlett) came to a sudden arboreal stop.
In other, slightly less ridiculous news, my parents have been full of advice about my pending trip to Spain. My father has been particularly helpful, warning me to beware of the following things:
1. sailors
2. drunken sailors
3. sailors "in from the port"
4. sailors on Las Ramblas
5. sailors out for a walk at night
Also, drugs in Ibiza (where we are not going). So...I guess I'm all set, then. Thanks, Dad!