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At dawn my wife headed off for work, as she always does. But tonight she flies out to DC to stay with old college friends in one of those Virginia suburbs of DC near the high tech corridor out there. She'll have a good time out there, as her college roommate and college roommate's spouse are nice folks. I find myself alone for the long weekend. On Saturday, I am probably going to drive to my parents' home in Arkansas for a quick visit, and to help my brother retrieve a truck he is to borrow from there. The rest of the weekend is largely mine to spend, although I am inclined to spend part of Monday working.

Today my "to do" list is rather long. I will head into the office slightly early to begin completing the tasks, one by one by one. I've had a productive month this month, so far, but as is usual, I can only think about what I have not done, and not what I have done.

I'm not really reading a novel right now, or looking forward to a movie, or dreaming about a hike I need to take, or even thinking of a special meal I need to have. I am not in the midst of any personal or spiritual epiphanies. I'm instead in one of those "keep on trudging" moods, a sort of mental ice storm in January, relieved by sporadic inward fiery blasts.

I'm fortunate that I'm one of those people who is naturally very contented. My daemon tends to be complacency, not agony. But times like the past week, when I feel little fissures in that contentment, interest me. Fortunately, many of the irritations and angers I have felt in the last day or two are readily traceable to "real world" events 'deserving' of anger. Only a few have been the proverbial pinpricks that turn into sword gashes.

Today's goal? Get the work done. Tomorrow's goal? Get the work done. Saturday's goal? Get chores done. Sunday's goal? Get hobby stuff done. Monday's goal? Get work done.

The point at which goals fade away and fun begins?
Unpredictable.
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gurdonark

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