a hole in my sidewalk

I am imagining I have only eight days left to say anything I should have said that might have been important. It isn't much time to finish a thought. This afternoon Donna came to visit and brought with her the wisdom and gravity that can only come from someone who has lost everything. This gives you perspective in a way that nothing else does; I tried to absorb it unselfconsciously.

thank you, goodbye.

1. I can't figure out how to use the new version of Blogger, which will, apparently, become the only version in September. I suppose I could complain to Google, or invest effort in learning how to use the new version. But I don't feel so inclined; I can't seem to care much about it, so this probably the end of the story unless something about that changes. It doesn't matter, particularly, because I have rather lost interest in the whole thing anyway. For now I am still able to access the old version, although it no longer allows me to insert paragraph breaks. Imagine me saying the following in one breath. 2. It's normal for me to be unenthusiastic about going back to work at the end of summer, but this year I find myself extraordinarily reluctant. It's a number of factors, of course, and many of them related to the 'Rona (the lack of adequate safety measures, the ridiculous amount of work foisted on counsellors to reschedule everything, the impending sense of dread as mental health of students, staff, and community members deteriorates...). But it's something more. It's the growing awareness that I like my 'Rona life better than I liked the old one. I like the lack of social obligation, I like the quiet. I am enjoying my garden and watching the birds. And making bread and painting old furniture and reading. All things I have always liked anyway, but the idea that I like these things enough to keep doing them longer than I thought I could. I used to think I needed my work to have something important to do in the world, and I don't think I feel this way anymore. I think I have done some important things, and I think I'd be perfectly happy to stop doing important things now. With all of this, I acknowledge the privilege involved - the fact that I have been employed the whole time, the fact that I have an unattached house with a large yard, the fact that I can afford to shoe shop when I'm bored, etc. and etc., and more. It is a possibility, to exit. I don't have to work. S is fine with that. I'm not sure it's fair to him, though. Or what the longterm impact of that would be upon our relationship. It's not like I am filling out the paperwork to resign, but I'm certainly imagining that in more detail than I ever have. Perhaps if I quit I will feel more inclined to invest time in learning how to use the new Blogger. Probably not. *