7 December 2011

December 7, 2011

For lunch, I eat with some friends I used to work with at a certain Christian ministry. They’re all quite a bit older than me, and all women. I mentally step back for a minute and think about how funny this is. Terrie is talking about a time she accidentally drove to Canada. We’re eating soups and sandwiches and quiches.

I buy a case of St. Arnolds Lawnmower. And green beans, and carrots and bananas. I realize it’s been months since I’ve been grocery shopping. At the counter, the woman looks back and forth between me and my ID six times, and I make a mental note to get a new driver’s license picture somehow.

Our apartment is warm today despite it being 30 degrees out. I open the windows to let in (or let out) some cool (or warm) air.

They’ve finished laying sod in the courtyard next door and now they’re hosing it off. The workers have all pulled their hoods over their heads, but I can’t imagine it being cold out there — it’s so warm in here. I can be extremely myopic sometimes. Mozart sleeps under the comforter again and I keep checking to make sure he isn’t over-heating. I can’t decide what to read now. I have a stack of books I keep adding to. I read Kierkegaard until I fell asleep last night. He stopped making sense around midnight. I pull another book off the shelf, Annie Dillard, and maybe I’ll give this a try.

I might be in a slump. In multiple areas, actually. Maybe slumps come in clusters.

I clean the apartment, but not very well. I just do it to have done something. Our apartment doesn’t recycle so we have to save our bottles and cans until one of us takes them to Janessa’s parent’s house. Actually, okay, Janessa does it every time. I balance a cardboard box on top of a milk carton and tell it to stay.

“Faith begins precisely where thinking leaves off.”

My friends all look exactly the same. I realize I’ve known them for four years and haven’t seen them for two. “You haven’t changed a bit,” they tell me, but I’d sort of hoped I had.

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