Live from the treadmill
Weekends are predictable. Wake early. Fetch the loaner dog. Spend the day opening and closing the front door. At a certain point, while in need of distraction, go for groceries. Prepare (mentally) for another week at work. Sleep. Come next weekend, rinse and repeat.
Not quite that scripted, but my plan to “flash” the new router is still set for some other day. Trepidation; a vision of being interrupted to open the front door and forgetting a crucial step. I really need an hour or so of exceptional time, wherein the process can be followed, line by line. After that, I’ll be good. The need to repair the weather station has falling into similar limbo, except that my unwillingness to climb ladders when it’s too cold to see straight are the cause. The effect…
I’m really on a treadmill, here. Nothing new learned (or forgotten). I can feed myself with my eyes closed. Ditto for most other processes.
Did you hear that Ontario has a new premier? Did you care? Me neither. We were listening to the evening news from Toronto (blame cable TV), and I learned that they need news. That story about a bakery that burned on Bathurst started to get moldy, fast. How many ways can the announcer paraphrase “three decades”? Bringing a kid who mentioned that the company had been there “for a really long time” showed that a quiet news day is just that, no matter where you live. Oh, and they might get some freezing rain in the next couple of days. Guess January does have its own charm.
