This morning's surprise was the failure of the hard drive on my mothership iMac. An additional pall was cast across the day, but hey, I had at least backed it up last week. Yes, there are some inconvenient losses, but nothing breast-beatingly-bad. Given my ... oh, let's call it malaise about the catastrophes in Japan and the concern about how that might all play out, down to the world economy, I did fairly well. I may not have the bucks to get a new hard drive and all, but I have another perfectly fine computer.
The brightest, silver-lining side of the sidelining of the Mothership iMac, is that I cleaned up/off more of my desk. The mobile unit computer has a much smaller footprint, so there's more room to make piles of paper. And the feng shui changed a bit. This is all encouraging right?
Okay, back after a walk. I haven't been walking as much or as regularly. I barely opened my front door over the weekend. It's lovely crisp evening out there, so I did a mile-and-a-half down my street. Lots of churches on 8th Avenue, including one which I believe is Russian Orthodox. My spirits seemed raised.
John's family found a nursing home for his mom. She'll be moving there on Friday. Nothing makes you more of an adult than dealing with aging parents. He invited me up for a glass of wine, and, although tempted, I declined. I had some wine with Ms. B last night and that was enough for this week.
Now for some last minute kitchen items to resolve, and then I can try to sleep. Not expecting that to happen as I took a lovely 90-minute nap, joined in the afternoon sun by Cooder and Miep.
And all I actually have to offer as a writer, is my version of life. — Anne Lamott
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I SIMPLY ACCEPT THE POSSIBILITY
November 12th I feel as if I am writing a wartime diary. That remains to be seen. I managed to get up early this morning, as someone was co...
-
Early morning or late at night? May 12, 2024 I realized a few moments ago that this would be Janet’s last Mother’s Day. That felt noteworth...
-
It is, of course, one of life’s persistent disappointments that a great moral crisis in my life is nothing but matter for gossip in yours. P...
No comments:
Post a Comment