I really hate that song, but people around here seem to bring it up from time to time, in an effort to keep me from devolving into a little storm cloud of vitriolic bloggery. So I'm trying not to be worn down by the little stuff. And trying to focus my mind on the better things swirling around me. I'd accept some friendly advice, though, about the small stuff.
- The pseudology building at Ghosttown U. is under construction repairs right now. My large and lovely window affords me a fine view of the crane that is hacking, hammering, and beeping all day long. Now and then, it also affords the workers on the crane a view of me in my office, on their way across the sky to beat the shit out of the roof right next to my office. It's, um, noisy. Cranking my iTunes does not seem to solve the problem. I'm not a huge fan of earplugs for these occasions. Anyone know a meditation practice that will keep me from feeling like I'm about to be run over by a backhoe?
- A piece of gravel hit my car windshield yesterday, putting a crack in the center of it. It's not huge, but it's certainly noticeable in the middle of the windshield like that. I've never dealt with this before. Is this the kind of thing that must be fixed right away and damn the cost, or can I ride around without fretting about it? It's not line-shaped, but a little round flaw, kinda like someone fired a bullet but without the excessive damage associated therewith. I remember a friend's car whose windshield had incurred some linear crack from debris: that line-shaped crack began to spread one evening when the heating in the car was on, until, in the course of half an hour, it had spread nearly all the way across the glass horizontally. That clearly needed to be fixed. Will I be in similar trouble, or can the car live with the flaw?
- I discovered yesterday that the rubber heel-grip of my left dress shoe has broken off, so the heel is currently a layer of wood. The rest of the sole is smooth leather. I was careening around like a drunken figure skater all day; it's a wonder I didn't do myself injury. Now I'm wondering what my peers would recommend with these eight-year-old shoes: do I seek out a cobbler to re-sole the broken heel, and maybe try to tone up the other parts that have just worn down over the years? (I don't think there is a cobbler at all in Ghosttown.) Or do I consign these shoes to dustbin of my personal history, and go shopping for a new pair? Remember, we're talking about a dressy pair of men's cap-toe oxfords, not something of more transient fashion value. I've been known to hang on to clothes past their natural lives, but I do so because I don't want to spend even more money that I don't have. Not sure what makes more sense here.
- In better news, I've got a fresh nibble from that book press editor! Can't say I've hooked a contract yet, or even a solid offer to bring it to the board, but there is some progress there. Basically, I need to write more of my manuscript for the editor to consider. Where's the coffee, again?
- It's a new year – for some of us, anyway – and I begin by noting that, all my complaints aside, I'm actually in pretty good mental, physical, and emotional shape. That's more than a lot of people I know can say about themselves. I'm lucky.