Little Things
I have chosen to be cautiously optimistic about December, and December has rewarded me by downgrading my cold to a vague cough. I am very nearly better, which means that I can spend all of my copious free time at the Very Serious Circus School and the climbing gym. I get shin splints when I run these days, which either means that I have developed woefully poor form or that it is time to purchase a new pair of running shoes. It is a testament to my low expectations that I am not at all put off by shin splints, or the fact that the new job requires me to engage in days of back-to-back meetings, or that Icelandic politicians and Thai NGO's are not returning my emails. I do not mind the winter rain, or the difficulties of scheduling all of my social obligations, or my inability to find a single roasted chestnut cart in all of ess eff.
Life is filled with small pleasures. The crazy landlady has agreed to renew our lease on Bunker 2, which means that we may settle in and we no longer have to feel as if we may be required to flee our home at any moment. Meetings at the Mysterious Workplace digress into discussions about exactly what sort of Bond villain Julian Assange may be. I lounge around Bunker 2 in my new peach slip, a silk bed jacket, and fancy oxford pumps, looking for all the world like something out of a 1920's cathouse. I celebrate a minor Jewish holiday by frying up bacon, eating latkes, and sipping on mulled wine until 2 am. I visit the new All Saints store on Geary, with its windows full of old sewing machines and racks full of asymetrical dresses. I read new books of short stories and Gordon Edgar's book about cheese.
I hope that December will continue to be kind. Perhaps this will be the month that I finish painting my walls and put the last of the pictures up. Perhaps I will revamp my shrine to Poseidon. I have decided that December will be filled with possibilities. The world is my bivalve. Now where did I put the paint?
Life is filled with small pleasures. The crazy landlady has agreed to renew our lease on Bunker 2, which means that we may settle in and we no longer have to feel as if we may be required to flee our home at any moment. Meetings at the Mysterious Workplace digress into discussions about exactly what sort of Bond villain Julian Assange may be. I lounge around Bunker 2 in my new peach slip, a silk bed jacket, and fancy oxford pumps, looking for all the world like something out of a 1920's cathouse. I celebrate a minor Jewish holiday by frying up bacon, eating latkes, and sipping on mulled wine until 2 am. I visit the new All Saints store on Geary, with its windows full of old sewing machines and racks full of asymetrical dresses. I read new books of short stories and Gordon Edgar's book about cheese.
I hope that December will continue to be kind. Perhaps this will be the month that I finish painting my walls and put the last of the pictures up. Perhaps I will revamp my shrine to Poseidon. I have decided that December will be filled with possibilities. The world is my bivalve. Now where did I put the paint?