Diary of a day

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6 a.m.
Wide awake and listening in bed to NPR report on the earthquake in Japan.  Samson sleeps.

7 a.m.
Out of bed.  Work on teeth.  The morning sun pours through the east windows on the front of my house. Samson sleeps.

8 a.m.
At dentist office for semi-annual cleaning and polishing.  Samson, having breakfasted and roamed the back yard, sleeps.

9 a.m.
Samson is in the car with me.  We drive south on Kingshighway, then across Arsenal and a few blocks further south to A Walk in the Park, where Samson is bathed, refreshed, expressed, and trimmed.  All for $20.  Meanwhile, I walk a few blocks to Hartford Coffee Company and have a Sammie (breakfast sandwich) and two bath-basin-sized cups of coffee.  And read the New York Times.  And play peek-a-boo with the three-year-old at the next table.

10.30 a.m.
Back home.  Armor-All the interior of Ingrid the Volvo.  Cut down the tiger grass out front.  (This shoudl have happened in January.)  Check on the progress of various green things in the yard.  Open a case of wine that arrived by mail recently. Samson, now worn out, sleeps.

The mums are starting to grow.  Daffodils continue to make their way upward.  I’m determined this year to plant more perennials, and prep the ground for bulbs in autumn.  I also intend to have a little herb garden this year.

11.20 a.m.
Bring the beans to a boil, in preparation for U.S. Senate Bean Soup.  Start one more load of laundry.  Think about polishing shoes, but go to the computer instead.  Samson barks once at some passing fancy, then sleeps.

1.30 p.m.
Now showered and rested, and having dealt with the continuous deluge of email and paid bills, I’m thinking of lunch.  Samson sleeps.

2.05 p.m.
Lunch is over.  Quiche and some berries were yummy.  The bean soup is nearing readiness.  I’ll have soup for a week now.  Samson begs.

3.30 p.m.
After puttering around for nearly 90 minutes, I have CDs put up, items rearranged, recycling deposited, and more laundry finished.  I’m now awaiting one of my students for some voice work.  Samson sleeps.

4.45 p.m.
En route to a movie.  Samson has been fed and walked, and wonders why I’m not paying attention to him.

5.16 p.m.
The Adjustment Bureau at Hi-Pointe cinema.

8 p.m.
Dinner at Pi in the Loop.

11 p.m.
Shake my head in wonder at the lumens put out by the new security light on the west side of my house.  After two recent break-in attempts, both when I am not home and both through the rather unlit back yard, I am through being nice.  This light is enough to keep neighbors awake at night, so I suppose I’m fortunate that my neighbor who faces this light is a high school.  No one is coming into my yard without being blinded by this light.  Samson wishes I’d just settle down so he can sleep on my lap.

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