The same song keeps running through my head: I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in... it stops my mind from wondering... Maybe you know the song, or maybe you don’t know it (Beatles, many decades ago), but surely you can appreciate the relevance.
Ed calls me in my office. They’re sanding and sealing the floors upstairs Thursday. Should we fill in the cracks and holes before that? I can’t come over today. My work day is too full. Tomorrow. After work, I’ll come tomorrow.
Ed calls with a correction. They’re doing the floors tomorrow. I marked the spots with holes that should be filled in. You want to inspect them for others? Really, I cannot. I’m sure it will be fine. I’m not fussy.
Not so much about holes in the floor. I can cover those with rugs.
Rugs. I’m at a store that sells them. Do you have this one in the smallest size? – I ask. I can’t put down a big rug in the bedroom. Too costly. But a small one, just by the bed... It takes her forever to find it, put it in a bag. I think -- man, I really do not like shopping.
Did you remember to vote? It's election day in Madison. Unlike most April elections here, this one is worth watching.
And so I'll watch, late into the night, I'm sure.
This afternoon, between classes, I went down the hill for that shot of strong espresso. I took the longer route, by the lake.
The ice is gone. The waters are buoyant and richly blue. It’s cold and the Terrace is still closed "for winter," but a few Wisconsin types have settled in nonetheless. There they are making do. No beers or brats yet, and still they find pleasure in being on the Terrace. As if waiting for the yellow, orange and green chairs to be delivered.
And speaking of frozen -- I dig out a frozen something for dinner. I must eat down the frozen foods. Who wants to move frozen foods to the new place?!