Stepped onto the back porch at nine this morning (would have been eight without the surprise time shift) just long enough to check the good tidings of the air, the promise of the slanted sun that today would be another excellent day to spend in a park. Or a "grove"—I just discovered a fine grove, with a sign identifying it as a grove, on campus behind the humanities center.
I ran into one of those numerical scales on which you’re supposed to plot your life in order to measure your present happiness, and I realized that I can’t remember the last time I had to drag myself to the couch and lie there feeling sorry for myself. Up through 2004 that was happening all the time.
