Thursday, September 4, 2008

Today I plan to get things done

(even though I'm still in bed at 10:33am)

It's my day off, of course. When I start my morning with a blog, the day is more likely to go as planned, I think. So.

1) Pay bills, figure out how much money I can spend at the grocery store, etc.
2) Make a list of used books to buy for the English Novel.
3) Clean the house, which includes but is not limited to the following: straighten the living room, do the dishes, clean the bathroom, pick up the clothes in my bedroom. If I'm bored but still want to clean, I can always mop.
4) Do laundry
5) Possibly do some grocery shopping, but I'll wait until Matt gets home for that.

I would rather eat lunch at Provence over the New Yorker, but I have to stop eating out. It adds up and gets expensive. So maybe I'll go make coffee and see what I can scrounge up for breakfast. We're out of eggs. I do have cereal, though.

Okay, off to get started being responsible. Have I mentioned how much I don't like being an adult sometimes?

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What's in My Journal (by William Stafford)

Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean
things, fishhooks, barbs in your hand.
But marbles too. A genius for being agreeable.
Junkyard crucifixes, voluptuous
discards. Space for knickknacks, and for
Alaska. Evidence to hang me, or to beautify.
Clues that lead nowhere, that never connected
anyway. Deliberate obfuscation, the kind
that takes genius. Chasms in character.
Loud omissions. Mornings that yawn above
a new grave. Pages you know exist
but you can't f ind them. Somebody's terribly
inevitable life story, maybe mine.