I Am Sitting Comfortably on My Couch, Which I Hate With an Abiding Passion

I hate everything right now, except for this pretzel.

That's not really true.

(I rather like my flannel pantaloons.)

It's November, again, and it's time to take stock. Buckle down, count the beans, tighten the laces and whatnot. Let's start with the positives. The Corolla is chumming along happily, in fall, covered with bright yellow leaves. In a week's time, those leaves will be crisp and brown, and it will smell definitively of autumn in Cambridge. Fall in academia is bright, trenchant, new; new talent, new thoughts, new challenges. I have a wonderful set of students this year. I am writing a paper on an entirely new topic of study. I am learning to play a mandolin (named Hermes).

 Well, that worked. I should start with the positives more often. You see, I have been irrationally irritated by things -- specific objects -- in the past few days, and I'm not entirely sure why. Remote controls, for instance. The couch. Plastic bags. I won't get into it -- actually I did, I wrote quite a bit, but then erased it all. Therapeutic, that. You'll never know just how irked I was by that bottle cap.

That said (ha!), I think it's better now. This couch is lovely, and comfortable, and warm. And now I think it's time for bed. Sweet dreams, travelers and friends.

-R.