It’s the early beginning of a written off week. Written off in terms of not too much expectations of me, although my expectations for it may rate highly. I expect much of a five day weekend, it seems.
I love winter escape-from-the-city’s.
But… bringing my thoughts back to today , and this early part of the week, I spent a good chunk of my at-work time reading I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I love memoirs, I really like this memoir. Regardless of whether or not I admire and respect the author, or whether I know enough about them to admire and respect them- although maybe that last part is moot, that’s likely why I’m reading.
My job today was watering the plants at work. This is a task I must perform with rapt attention, wIth no interruption and quite systematically. There are measurements to be made and ladders to be climbed up and down. Today I wore little black high heels. These required shoe foot apparatus removal; each time I climbed a step. For safety reasons I stepped around in stockinged feet, and rolled my foot around each rung of the ladder, enjoying a short reprieve from vanity-foot-pain, my desire to be tall on a Monday morning.
In this way, the most productive part of my Monday this week was spent shoeless and atop a ladder.
