Hours go by slowly

Blogging at work. I've sunk to a new low. Actually, I've been here for HOURS and have been incredibly productive. If the photocopier weren't being worked on, I'd still be running up and down the hall. My night class isn't for another one-and-a-half hours, so I'm killing time, something my mother told me never to do. She said we'd always want that time back some day.

I guess she's right. I wonder if, at the end of her sixty years and eight months, she wished she could have had a few more years, months, weeks, days, even hours? What would she have done with that time then?

One thing's for sure. She would not have spent it in an office on a day when the sun is shining, the sky is blue, the weather is spectacular, and there are birds to see. (She loved to watch birds.)

Speaking of birds, my car is starting to look like an aviary litter box. I have to park underneath a tree at the studio, and apparently an entire flock of some kind of bird has roosted up in that tree and eliminated regularly upon poor Bonnie-Used-to-be-Blue.

I met three of my neighbors today when I went home for lunch. All young, of course. But they seemed nice enough. I haven't met the new person in Apt. 9. He drives a great car, though. Someone said he's the new women's golf coach.

It's been cold enough at night that I've run the electric space heater AND slept with several blankets and quilts on the bed. When I put up those insulated curtains, I had expected to keep out heat, but not quite to that extent! However, the curtains also help drown out sounds, especially as people go up and down the metal stairs outside my window.

At least I'll be headed home by this time tomorrow. Not that I'll have a husband to go home to. He's still so involved with the search committee stuff that he's not going to be home tomorrow night. I guess I'll just stop at the grocery store and pick up a tv dinner for myself. It's all I seem to eat lately. I had a frozen hot pocket for lunch today. (Well, to be concise, I nuked it. Not too bad.) I'm going to insist on REAL food when we spend time together on Friday. (And he'd better have me penciled into his calendar for Friday, or he's going to be sorry!)

I downloaded Edgar's obituary today. It's really a sweet picture of him. I hadn't seen much of him in his later years (he was 85!), and in my memory, he'll always be this muscular giant of a man, not the shriveled up little wizened gnome in the obituary. Of his brothers, Felton is the only one still alive. He was the youngest. He and Edgar looked nothing alike. Edgar was definitely a mesomorphic body type, whereas Felton was an ectomorph. Edgar was fair and square. Felton was dark and angular. I loved them both.