2 posts tagged “good day”
You know how I can tell?
It was foggy this morning and 45. After so many weeks of 15 degree mornings with tundra-like blasts of wind, 45 and foggy is like frolicking around in a sauna.
The garbage man and I smiled at each other. Our city has manual garbage trucks, with two guys riding on back to empty the cans. I see this same guy every Monday, running the route about four blocks from my house. It's a quiet, narrow street and I almost always cross right behind the garbage truck. (You see how predictable my life is?) Garbage Guy is about 22, skinny, and he wears a Jayne Cobb hat in the winter. Today I crossed the street behind the truck just as he was returning an empty garbage can to the curb. We passed each other just as he jumped back on the truck, and for whatever reason we gave each other a huge grin. Wonder what he was listening to on his headphones.
Stumpy Skwerl was sitting on my window ledge when I got to my office. He's missing all but about 2 inches of his tail and I often leave him my apple cores on the window ledge. As a promise for later, I set my apple on the inside of the window ledge so he'll know to come back after my morning break.
I sent off a query to an agent who reps a good friend of mine, so if nothing else, I feel pretty sure he'll ask to see the manuscript.
Plus, I actually feel pretty good about the manuscript today.
Yup, gonna be a good day. Hope you have one, too.
When I walked through the doors of Brain Tumor Hall this morning, it was like walking into an oven. Outside: crisp and a little humid. Inside: hot and dry. Today is day one of the basement demolition, and already they've messed up the air conditioning system. I am lucky, compared to the vast majority of office ladies in BT Hall--I have a window, through which relatively cool air comes, only occasionally laced with a whiff of tar as they re-roof the building next door.
At any rate, although I am sweating profusely, I am grateful. I am indoors and I just ate breakfast. I'm not squatting in the desert in the blazing sun, waiting for an aid agency to bring me a little food and water or for militiamen on horseback to come kill me. Similarly, although I spent part of the weekend mopping up water in my basement, at least I don't live on the Marais des Cygnes river, which yesterday crested at 20 feet above flood stage.
The worst things I've got to face is my boss' return from Paris and my ongoing struggle with the next query letter. Good to be me.
Had to add this photo of the bridge into Ottawa (which is right on the Marais des Cygnes). Lucky for them, they have flood gates that close Highway 59 when the river gets this high. The crazy thing is that this is usually more of a creek, running 20 feet below the bridge.
