Coffee: Maxwell House Drip, Office Coffee
The pool’s open. I walked by as a tiny ten year old did a cannonball on the deep end. Her mother didn’t look too pleased.
It was an average day. So average I don’t remember most of it. It doesn’t help that I spent the morning with a headache and the afternoon solving mundane problems at work. The power went out. Just a blip, but it was long enough to make the server crash, which then crashed some of our computers, which then led to me being on hold for half an hour with tech support. Like I said – mundane problems.
But you need days like this sometimes. All the bright moments won’t stand out on a vivid background. There’s a reason most walls are painted cream and most furniture is some shade of brown.
Outside, a dog barked at me. It looked happy. It was playing fetch with it’s owner, running over and over, bringing back the stick. Average, but in a good way.
Currently Reading: Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain
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There is an hour of the afternoon when the plain is on the verge of saying something. It never says, or perhaps it says it infinitely, or perhaps we do not understand it, or we understand it and it is untranslatable as music.Jorge Luis Borges