Old habits die slowly
An uncomfortable calm covered the ladn, as the workers laid down their hammers and shovels and unidentified but expensiv battery powered tools. The union had warned us. Either the deal gets sweeter, or the job will have to wait. The mayor, falling into his common role of accountant with an ax to grind, kept repeating the mantra: “Two hundred thousand a day. One million a week”, before tearing up and turning away from the assembled journalists. Tune in tomorrow for the next chapter in our latest serial.
To be fair, the roads were quieter this afternoon (that annoying pile driver near the river crossing was stilled). I arrived home a few minutes earlier, and no earth moved.
Had a call from a friend who has adopted the ebook way. Totally. Finally, no need to soak a book in the hot tub (inside joke). But I understand the sentiment. My ereader (a Kobo Aura HD with a new leather folio cover that came in today’s package delivery) keeps track of things. Since power on (several weeks ago, I’ve read for twenty-five hours and finished reading five novels. Do the math. A little at a time is just as progressive as a long weekend sprint, and it gets the job done. I haven’t run the battery down to zero (yet) and the night light is not a constant on. Old habits die slowly, not hard. Next up, a trip to the recycle bin for some of the paper copies I’ve kept around. Re-reading is an academic premise; detached from the world of popular literature.
