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Being an account of semioticrobotic's everyday life
A phenomenologist professor and mentor once told our class that there was no better way to be reminded that we are all bodies-in-the-world (that we are all enworlded) than to contract a cold. I recalled that moment this week as my body registered the effects of my own post-vacation illness, a cold I picked up some time between arriving in Florida and leaving again three days later. Bodies entwining with mine, fluids and leaks from all the openings in my skull, sensations that remind me of folds and tissues that I rarely attend to. I am very much aware of my body-in-the-world this week. But I dare say I am feeling better.
Final day of work before a much-needed pre-summer vacation. Work has been wonderously slow such that I'm able to confidently wrap everything that needs wrapping before I head out. Checked into our flight last evening and received offer for extremely inexpensive upgrade to first class, on which we splurged. Neither of us have flown this way before. I'm ready to experience life in Group 1.
Amy stayed in town an extra day after a weekend filled with family and celebrations of mothers, motherhood, and mothering. It was a meeting-free day, which meant (among other things) that I actually achieved a significant amount. Looming ahead of me is a vacation for which I am clearly not ready, but will need to be regardless of anything else. Tonight, had a nice long call with Greg, with whom I hadn't spoken in too many months. I'll be temporarily rejoining his journal in an editorial capacity as the team migrates to a new back-office manuscript management system (Open Journal Systems—finally!). I'm glad I can help, but also glad my commitment can be time-delimited. I think this addition is going to be just the thing I need to nudge my everyday in the new directions I've desired for the past few months. I've been feeling like I haven't really adjusted the parameters of my day-to-day in a proper response to my job change. In many ways I'm fitting new puzzle pieces into the same frame, novel rhythms into older cadences, and it's time to reinvent it all. Beginning in June, as the weather warms and the daylight stretches, I'll do just that.
Working remotely for a few days, as Amy's parents are in town. I've welcomed the change of scenery, as lately has involved a good deal of solitary toiling away at stuff—individual work on larger, more collaborative projects. It's all been great, the kind of learning I hoped to experience with the latest job change, though it can be tiring. Last week I made my first contributions to an internal codebase, which made me equally frustrated and, when successfully completed, proud. These were updates to documentation, but even they required adhearance to the same coding and version control conventions our software does, so I really did "learn the ropes," as it were. It was one of those periods from which I emerged clearly more knowledgable and capable than I was before.
This week has an unevenness that has made the usual disjunction between planning and execution even more significant. But that's just a way of describing the week without saying it's been a "bad week," which wouldn't be true. It's just been A Week. Eclipse Monday, which was fabulous. Amy and I agreed to make special plans for the next one, 20 years from now. The past two years especially have made that kind of forward-casting daydreaming uncomfortable for me; in fact, just this week I found myself admitting that I no longer saw much value in planning for anything more than five years into the future. I'd been thinking about all the plans I made, the milestones I'd imagined, and reflecting on what actually transpired. So imagining my life two decades from now? I just hadn't done that in, well, years.
Saturday morning on the couch while Amy is at the hairdresser. Coffee, vaporwave, and some writing—letters mostly, and this bit of triviality to pass the time and ease into the weekend in the best way I know how. Yesterday's earthquake is still the talk of the town (though in this case it's the talk of every town in the northeatern United States). Date night tonight: dinner, drinks, and a screening of "Return of the Jedi" with live orchestral accompaniment.
Earthquake! I was downstairs wondering why the dryer was acting up; Amy was upstairs wondering what unnecessarily loud thing the landscapers were up to. Turns out, it was simply the earth moving all around us. Most remarkable was the duration! I've only experienced earthquakes lasting 10 seconds or so; this one went on for more than 30. So I had plenty of time to break attention from work, cock my head and search my surroundings, and both feel and observe the rattling all around me.
So dreary, these days. Today it has rained from sunup to sundown, consistently albeit with varying intensities. I was out for a bit. Errands. Boring. But I completed everything and came home as quickly as I could to take a hot shower. Work these days is mostly documentation—great, comfortable, predictable and engaging work I can complete intermittently, asynchronously with my team, which suits me and allows for luxuries like trips to the grocery story amid downpours. I do miss reading and writing things more complicated, complex. But now that I've got a nice rhythm going with Day Job, I feel like I've found viable moments for these things, too.
A phone call just as soon as I'd managed to rouse myself this morning. It was the doctor's office, calling with the news that the latest round of bloodwork confirmed anemia. I was surprised, to be sure, though not worried. We'll get a handle on it. Meanwhile, Stephanie was headed over so we could go out for one of our two-hour marathon breakfasts. I finally got to show her the pictures from Disney World. We talked about the fact that I'd now been in the area a year, an unfathomable timeline in some ways, but completely reasonable in others. How much life has changed these past 12 months. Work was slow, but I welcomed that today. Maybe it's the anemia. Maybe I'm just tired.
Another entry tinged with guilt over the time that's passed since the last one. Funemployment was wonderful and included a trip to Walt Disney World—but, sadly, it left only enough dedicated writing time to allow for final revisions on my contribution to the forthcoming collected volume on Larry's work and legacy. It's submitted. Then there was the new job: the First Day, the Second Day, the Third Day, until finally it was Week 6, and here I am, putting the finishing touches on some of my first major projects. I really think I'll grow to like the place. Spring is purportedly here, though the thermometer does not reflect its presence, despite the longer days and cool mornings that make me feel that familiar twinge of possibility.
How quickly the time passes between entries, even as (especially as?) I tell myself that a daily writing habit is tantamount to my overall mental health and well-being. But the past few days have been like quicksilver on glass; I received the job offer, resigned from Current Role, started simultaneous onboarding and offboarding checklists, and generally just exhaled to relish it all. I know I made the right choice because of how eager I am to begin New Role. I'm already looking forward to the two weeks of what the kids today call "funemployment" between jobs—a vacation and multiple days spent reading and writing are precisely what I need right now.
Back to work after a lovely and relaxing four-day weekend. Roughly four inches of snow fell overnight and through the morning, coming down in all kinds of consistencies, from light-and-chunky to tiny-and-pelty. I spent some time outside over my lunch break, shoveling. Dad stopped by to drop off lightbulbs he'd ordered for me. His was the only car I saw on the road all day, save for the plow. I wasn't surprised. No word from job interviewers yet, but I did learn that I was the first to complete the full interview process—and therefore the candidate with the longest wait. So it goes. I'll be busy enough to make the time pass quickly. Meanwhile, I'm drifting around my cold house, trying to keep the pipes from freezing, enjoying the special kind of peace and solitutde only a minor snowstorm can create.
A holiday here in the States, which was a surprisingly welcome reprieve so close to the tail end of year-end holiday hiatus. I actually felt like I had time off. I did work a bit in the morning, primarily with folks in other countries for whom it was definitely definitely not a holiday. Then Amy and I played NES for a large chunk of the afternoon: Tetris and The Adventures of Lolo 2—both puzzle games toward which she gravitated rather naturally. We quit when her Steelers began their playoff game. She watched and cursed. I sat on the floor, piecing together a mechanical keyboard I'd planned to make for her. The Steelers lost. The keyboard was a big win.
Another slow, gratifying weekend day at home. Amy and I watched the recently released Tetris historical drama, which we both found quite good and compelling. And for a film that is essentially a two-hour intellectual property negotiation with a car chase thrown in, that's really saying something!
Unseasonably warm today at slightly more than 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Unfortunately it accompanied a storm that alternately trickled and poured all day. It was a mess. I ran through the drizzle to take my recycling to the curb. And of course it was the day my new dishwasher was to be delivered. That was a success, though it meant an entire evening cleaning and reorganizing the kitchen. Another satisfying day at work, all told. Still no word on the results of my job interview. I grow more impatient by the day.
Job interview today. It's an odd ritual, the Job Interview. But I think this one went fine. The worst part of the interview actually comes afterward—not only the interminable wait, but the mental lap-running, replaying my memories of my answers to the interviewer questions, again and again, thinking about what I said, thinking about what they think I said, thinking about what they think I should have said based on what they said, and so on. I will say that I'd really like the job; I think I could both bring great skill and experience to the role, but also learn and grow much more from it more in it than I'm doing in my current position. Re-reading my lifelog, I realize I've been circulating job applications in one form or another for nearly half a year. That's a long time to sit with feeling a need for change. I hope 2024 brings that change.
Today was a day of small victories, tiny advances warranting silent celebrations—a half-smile here, an extra satisfyingly deep breath there, and accomplished nod or two. It was my first day "back" to work, making an end to the holiday period and the official kickoff of another year's labor. I even allocated a few spare minutes to tidying up my presentation materials for a(nother) job interview this week. It's a fitting exercise in the season of fresh beginnings. The morning's organizational stressors underscored the need for that kind of change soon.
Slept late—very late for me, anyway, but appropriate given the extent of last night's reverly. For the first time in years, I was awake to watch the year turn over. I ushered in 2024 at the usual family party, then capped with playing Tetris with Amy while sipping some excellent spiced rum. I do like making resolutions and setting goals, and here are a few I've concocted for the months ahead: Read at least 20 books. Re-establish a minor, comfortable exercise routine. Take steps to improve my overall job satisfaction. Reduce my living expenses so I can subsist on half of hwat I earn, then save and invest the remainder. And in January specifically, I'll aim to complete a decluttering challenge, discarding each day a number of items corresponding to the day of the month (one item on the first day, two on the second, and so on). It's like the thing-based version of a post-holiday dietary endeavor like Dry January—casting off the excesses that managed to stick to me as 2023 wound on.
Today, I felt helpful and productive. I've found that the days I consider my "best days" are the days I'm able to make the biggest contribution to or impact on others' work. Usually (as today) I do that in some way that's related to writing or editing—helping re-draft something that's been troublesome for someone, or ironing out some sentences to help someone's voice shine through something that's become muddy. I often sweat when I'm doing it. That's how I know I'm invested and engaged. Don't ask me for any kind of coherent physioligical explanation otherwise.
Dreary, rainy, bone-achingly cold kind of day. I felt it in my heart, then, when Amy left to return home after my birthday weekend concluded. After a full day of beer tasting, video game and vinyl record shopping, and nightcaps at the gin bar yesterday, we spent this one inside, reading, playing Tetris, and otherwise trying to fight the pervasive chill. At night I met Brent and Joey for a holiday toy run. We did alright. But I wasn't in it for the toys anyway.
I am 41 today. So it seems like as good a time as any to recommit to writing here. Awoke just in time to see snow begin falling. The storm would eventually blanket the yard and the street in nearly half an inch of powder—but it melted away by lunchtime, when Amy and I left the house for sandwhiches at the shop. Joey was working and Brent met us there, so it really was like having a small lunch party on my birthday. I enjoyed it immensely, though it did make concentrating on work the rest of the day much more difficult. After work, Amy presented me with gifts: a shirt, a record album, collectibles, and some homemade Squirrel Nut Zippers, which are delicious. Dinner was at Mom and Dad's with Kaitlyn and Addie, and featured so many of my favorites. Addie helped me blow out my candles and open even more gifts. I really couldn't have asked for a better day.
We're at that point, late in the summer, where the sunlight hits at the perfect angle for early evening walks. So Mom was over today for our usual trek around the neighborhood. We talked about last weekend and this weekend, my upcoming travel plans, her run-in with an old friend at the local department store, my romantic relationships past and present. The evening's oranges and yellows were an excellent backdrop for it all. The day was otherwise uneventful—pleasantly so, I hasten to add, as the beginning of the week left little time for enjoyment of much of anything (save the parts of DayJob™ work that one might deem enjoyable). This morning, I enjoyed 25 minutes of extra time in my easy chair, finishing *This is How You Lose the Time War*—my second time through but my first reading alongside Amy, who also loved it. Phone wouldn't seem to shut up today (making me glad I leave it in the other room while I work). Heard from Jackie. Heard from Stephanie. Heard from Jonathan. And via email, heard from Scott. Finished work, finished dinner, finished a beer, finished reading some work by Alain Locke. Finished this entry.
Off work yesterday and a weekend today—all of which meant plenty of unstructured time at home, which is what I was craving. What a joy it is to act without compulsion from a daily diary, to see something that should be done and to simply do it without regard for whether it's *what I should be doing right now*. How liberating to follow an impulse, to solve and immediately pressing problem, no matter the investment it may require.
Appeared as podcast guest for the second time this week. Interviewees happened to be two friends I had not seen in some time, which was a delight. Thought it might be a nice day to send Amy flowers, so did that too. And then there was work, which was work—fulfilling today, if not a little scattered. Trip to the barber and a few emails later, and it's time to pour a beer and read for tomorrow's meeting of the continental philosophy reading group. I'll probably spin a record while doing that. Perfect night.
Front porch or back porch? Those were the options at my niece's fourth birthday party tonight. On the front porch: the younger couples, in their 20s and early 30s, watching their kids play in the sprinkler and wading pool, talking about their recent vacations, the local housing market, home repair exploits, everything their kids were doing to frustrate and amaze them. On the back porch: the older folks, from their 60s to their 90s, munching more slowly on the sandwiches and pasta salad, talking about the local baseball team, their charity work, their ailments and aches, the beauty and the glory of retirement, the price of gas. I wandered back and forth, listening, a 40-year-old man without a porch.
Four meetings today, all lovely opportunities to catch up with teammates I had not seen in some time. I needed the refreshing conversation and the spirit uplift after learning that I won't receive an opportunity to interview for an opportunity to join another team. So it goes. Meanwhile, writing and editing the rest of the day made hours pass quickly. Early evening dinner with Amy was the highlight of it all.
A long one today. Paperwork, paperwork. Took some breaks to engage in exciting activities like folding laundry and emptying the dishwasher. These are the joys of workign from home that all the remote-work boosters fail to mention. Walked the neighborhood with Mom in the afternoon, chatting about the week and the weather and my date last weekend and and my niece's upcoming birthday. Just lovely to be outside, to feel the sun. Still no word on my proposed interdepartmental transfer at work. Apparently that'll take some time. So I wait. Not always one of my strengths.
The day began early—minutes past midnight, really, as I decided to stop tossing and turning and just get up, open the laptop, and write the cover letter for the new position that I'd been composing in my head for the past hour. It flowed out so smoothly, without caution or constraint. I submitted and went back to bed, feeling my entire body sink so deeply and so readily into my mattress, knowing that I had done what needed to be done.
Work's frenzied pace forced a hiatus from writing. But it's a holiday week now, and I'm unshackled from the strictures of a workday routine. Spent a good portion of the day in the living room, continuing setup. It's the last significant project I need to tackle before I can say I'm "moved in." Not bad for four months. The air conditioning was out yesterday, but luckily the tech could get here at 08:00 this morning to repair it. The culprit was my grandfather's miserly ingenuity; he'd blocked the HVAC intake with some extra insulation to prevent drafts in wintertime. Once removed, air flowed freely—and the house temperature finally dipped below 80 degrees.
An all-around average day at work, but a busier evening as Brent and I made a quick toy run before we celebrated Kaitlyn's birthday with pizza and ice cream. Then went to the local church league softball game. And on the way, Dad stopped to help me set up my newly painted and customized TV stand—that final major piece of furniture I need to really pull the house together. It's all going to look great. Continued to read for both my reading groups—Langer's *Feeling and Form* for the philosophy group, and Eghbal's *Working in Public* for the community building group. I'm hopelessly behind but really enjoying them both.
First "first date" in 20 years. To say I'm rusty would be an understatement (and a tired metaphor at that), so I won't say it. Instead I'll just confess to being somewhat daunted by the prospect, conspicuously inadequate. She deserves better than someone who comes with training wheels.
A day of spills. Spilled coffee on the new sofa first thing in the morning. Spilled oil while doing repairs in the garage. Spilled water across the floor from the dehumidifier when emptying the retainer. So that all set the tone for today and everything in-between—spillage and leaky boundaries, running from one messy puddle to another, dabbing at the edges, trying to contain the seepage. I was glad I could finally leave to meet Chris for ramen, the heartiest meal I've had in days. We looked at collectibles downtown and noted everything that once lived in our parents' basements.
Recovering from two-night stay in the hospital. GI issues again, identical in nearly every way to incident two years ago. No surgery this time (thank goodness). But plenty of discomfort and fear. Just so happy to be home. Spent the day doing light chores and housework to celebrate being able to stand and move freely. Small wins, little celebrations, significantly meaningful.
A dark and rainy one from start to finish, yet full of gratitude because the drought was becoming serious. The day was pretty Monday-ish, all told, but I did find a little extra time to begin work on the Closet Reorganization Initiative. Just taking stock of everything that's here—eveything I apparently deemed worthy of transporting from several states away—took about an hour. And I can already tell what's going to get tossed in the end.
Hailey turned 8 today, so we all gathered for a beautiful, sunny-day party at the local community pool (note to self: when told the kid's part is at the local watering hole, know that it is indeed at the large, local hole filled with water). I stay way longer than planned, but such is the nature of these things. Time spent like this—with family and friends and now their families—is the biggest upshot of post-move life. Then Mom and Dad and I watched the Phillies game at my place while installing Yet More Shelving. The Phillies won and so did we, because the shelves look great.
This evening's baseball game was rained out. Everyone regretted the missed opportunity but no one was really too upset to see our drought-riddled town receive some sustenance. We really did (and do) need it. So the evening consisted of driving into the city, jockying for a parking space, walking several blocks to the ballpark, locating family amidst the crowd, pushing through said crowd to find general admission seating, directing one another where to sit to maximize group space, and then promptly standing back up and running for cover when the skies opened up. My niece was surprisingly resilient, and asked me to hold her while we waiting under an awning for the downpour to return to drizzle. She jumped into my arms and we stood there, her tiny body limp and fragile in my arms, her face tucked into my right shoulder crevice, waiting for the rain to stop. I was suddenly hoping it never would.
Lots of writing, editing, and "content strategy" today—all generally ingredients for what I tend to consider a Good Day. So today was one of those. Accidentally slept late and wasn't sure why, but even with the bolt-upright, shotgun start the morning went smoothly. Went for a walk with Mom in the afternoon, and we didn't get too far before rainclouds rolled in and thunder quickened our pace. Still, despite the rush we got decent exercise (the storm amounted to very little—a disappointment for me, actually, because I'd been hoping for a strong Pennsylvania thunderstorm as soundtrack to reading and writing tonight). All the while, I'm making room for my new sofa and easy chair, centerpieces of my newly decorated living room, and preparing for a delivery of yet another set of shelves I can use to organize Nerd Stuff in my study. Every week, this place feels more like my house.
Not a bad Monday, as Mondays tend to go: writing, editing, community management—the triunverate. I even had a short window of opportunity to go for a run before settling back in for the company's quarterly earnings call. Refamiliarizing my body with the motions and demands of running took about two weeks but, finally, today I felt like I was acclimating again. Runs remain much shorter than I'd like (I still tire easily) but I can already tell I'm regaining capability.
All my writing energy has lately poured into my essay about Larry's early research and writing on the concept of "communication," so journaling took a back seat during the Memorial Day holiday. I was off from work for five days; it was glorious. Friends, family, food, and furniture (I build and organized more around the house). I worked in the morning, then left around lunchtime to run errands and grab a bite at the sandwich shop. Local school districts must have either had a half day or had already closed for summer, because many of today's lunch-hour clientele were kids. A young girl came inside with her mother, clutching tiny stuffed toys and chatting with anyone who'd listen. While her mother waited for sandwiches, the girl plopped herself on the stool next to me at the counter and wasted not a second telling me all about what she was going to eat (ham sandwich), what she was going to do next (catch minnows in the creek), and what she planned to do that evening (swim in the family pool with her uncle and cousins). How easy she made it all seem. Three other kids threw open the front door after dumping their bikes in the front lawn. An older girl (likely 12 or 13) was clearly in charge of the younger two (8? 10?), who scuttled about pulling bags of potato chips from the racks, lolipops from the displays, and ice cream from the freezer. I imagined myself and my friends at that age, doing something similar, recalling that feeling of empowerment and freedom the wamrth of the summer always seemed to bestow. Afternoon adventures never in short supply. I quietly munched my sandwich as my own childhood friend worked the cash register, ringing up the torrent of hungry customers who breezed through the shop, taking the kids' chicken nuggets order. That was us one day.
Today was the kind of day remote work boosters obsess about. Woke early so I could check for work emergencies before heading to Brent's house, where I drove with him to drop Addie at school. Then we hit the flea market, where I hadn't been for probably a decade (picked up Monopoly for the NES and a still-sealed Rush record). Lots of new things to see. Even more had simply stayed the same. After lunch at the shop, I came home, took a shower, and started my work day around 13:00. Broke at 17:00 to set up my stereo, had dinner, worked more, and just decided to wrap at 20:30. Mom and Dad just stopped with a takeout meal from West Lawn Wednesday so I had some lunch tomorrow. To celebrate the final community dinner of the season, Mr. Hong made fried rice. I'll be eating it for days. So happy.
Brisk one today, but I welcomed that. Editing in the morning, then a meeting, then lunch, then more editing and program management before a walk around the neighborhood with Mom. We ran into Diane, who revealed she'd "rescued" Oma and Opa's garden sundial from my trash pile this weekend. Just got off a 90-minute Zoom call with Greg, trying to help him recover files lost from iCloud drive several months ago. What a mess—a cogent reminder of why I ditched Apple nearly two decades ago. Tonight I'll probably do the dishes, pour another Reading lager, then finish reading for group tomorrow.
My first thought on waking this morning was that I was about to begin a shortened, holiday week—which can only mean that it's going to feel like an incredibly protracted, interminable, three-weeks-in-three-days work week. Everyone canceled their morning meetings with me (no complaints), so it turned rather quickly into a productive time. Lunch was leftover Ranch House chicken cheesesteak. Throughout the day I took stretch breaks and worked on slowly filling my newly mounted cassette racks. My nearly 400-tape collection is now on the wall, looking sharp. After a decent run and a show, I'm ready to pack it in.
Mom and Dad visited this afternoon. Mom watched the Phillies game while Dad and I hung some vintage cassette tape racks for which I was scouring eBay not long ago. (They look great.) Joey even stopped by. It was one of those amorphous, come-what-may kind of Sundays without pretense or scaffolding that just feels good every now and again. We capped off the evening with a trip to the Ranch House, arriving at 16:45 in perfect Berks County fashion, where I could buy Dad dinner and ice cream as small thanks for his afternoon of work.
A full day at home was quite a luxury today. Cleaned and sorted my new cassette tape racks, installed a new shower head, put my tabletop vinyl record holder together, unpacked boxes, cleaned the laundry room, shined the kitchen floor, and went for a run when it was all over. After a shower (under the new hardware, natch), the best part of the day began: I poured a pint of light, Reading-made lager, turned on some ambient electronic music, and sat in my easy chair, reading beside the open window in my study. For about an hour, I was completely content, at peace, settled. The buzzing of the towels finishing in the washing machine changed that.
Finally finished the entire, laborious process of registering my car in the state of Pennsylvania. Four stages of work spread across several weeks. What a hassle. But it's done now—just in time for me to buy an electric bicycle. Apart from today's walk to the mechanic, the day was a fairly uneventful, straightforward work day that involved the usual interviewing, reading, and writing. A box of books sits on my porch now, waiting for me, and tonight I think I'd rather read more than write.
Such a bright day. Woke early to call Laura and catch up. I'd missed talking to her. Worked through the morning, then met with Michelle to discuss finances for the first time in more than a year. Afternoon meetings, and it was time for desk work before Boehringer's with the family. It was the perfect pre-Memorial Day evening.
Not necessarily the day I wanted (lots of housework), but definitely the day I needed. A lighter meeting schedule meant that I had more flexibility (so I used it to wash socks?). Brent and I could even go see Joey at the shop for lunch. And I shipped my North Carolina license plate back to the NC DMV. It was a slightly emotional moment for me, seeing that plate (which I remember so vividly getting) being packed up and shipped out. North Carolina—the place and the idea—held so much promise, so much potential. That "new chapter" vibe was so strong, so exciting. Now that I've returned, the new chapter vibe feels different—a muted hopefulness instead of anticipation full to bursting.
Awoke to a crew outside, tearing up the street in front of my house to prepare for gas line installation. They started at 07:00 and were finished by 16:00. Unreal. A lighter day at work meant I also had time to run to the notary and (finally) get my car registered in-state. So two of the three arduous phases of work to bring an automobile into Pennsylvania are now complete. Walked with Mom around the neighborhood in the evening, past the schoolyard playground where I once played as a first-grader. A cool breeze swept across the block tonight, making it feel like an afterschool day from childhood, too.
Day began in a bit of a frenzy because one of my authored blog posts went live this morning, and despite all efforts editors still needed last-minute changes. So "morning work" didn't begin until after lunch, for which I ordered a pizza. Also went out for a run this evening, for the first time in uncounted months. While folding laundry, a songstress said she and the object of her lyrical musings were "compatible like the same two sides of Velcro," a statement that just kept getting more poignant the more I thought about it. Maybe I was just really hungry.
Slept late today, reluctant to expose myself to the morning's chill. Organized my books, then set up my new TV. Cleaned my bedroom and my bathroom for the first time since moving in, then spent Mother's Day with Mom, volunteering at the homeless shelter. Initialized booklog. Initialized lifelog.