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bank machines in trees
Monday, October 19 1998
In the morning the last dream I remember had me up in the tops of trees withdrawing money from bank machines that someone had installed up there.
It's not hard for me to get up in the morning to go to work. I go to bed early so I'm rested and cheerful when the alarm goes off at 7:01am. Kim fixes me coffee and toast just like the housewife I never really imagined I'd ever have.
After my leisurely bicycle commute, I feel useful in my workplace; there's always things to do now, no more staring at the clock. At worst the work makes me weary with its occasionally repetitive qualities, but then it suddenly changes to become something completely different, requiring either lots of thought or unusual bursts of creativity. If anything I think I need to pace myself so I don't make myself into a slave. I tend to work until I'm through, but I'm gradually discovering that in this line of business, you're never through. You have to perform triage on a regular basis and some things just never get done.
The co-workers are (for the most part) funny and bright, but I've yet to get a startling glimpse of anyone's humanity.
Coming home tonight, just before crossing over I-8 on Texas Street, I was witness to a spontaneous horn honking celebration, a wordless gesture of support for the Padres. They'll begin playing their home games of the World Series tomorrow in Mission Valley.
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