baggage's Diaryland Diary

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Working in the familiarity of my home distills the experience into pure work-that is, all the standard aspects of the day which really have nothing to do with my job are replaced. These aspects could be but are not limited to: co-workers, the TV constantly blaring CNN, the cafeteria...and they're replaced (for me, anyway) with a certain focus-a spotlight on the task at hand.

The absence of details unimportant enriches the moment.

And the more I relish these moments, the more I need Her around me-if that makes any sense.

Right now, She is sleeping in the next room. The alarm was set for 7 am-and my brain, well-trained by weekday upon weekday of pre-sunrise conciousness, booted up my spirit at 5:30 am. I stayed under the covers for a while surrounded by the fabric of my life-Her, the cats, the torn mosquito net She bought from Ikea so many years ago-and burrowed in. I love being around Her on weekend mornings. I can enjoy Her company in silence and warmth-free from the taint of the day by day, free from the promise of night. Her breath and smell sustain me-makes me want to live.

And, eventually I get up and start to live (in the most standard of ways): I run around the block, read the paper, let the cats out, let the cats in, drink my breakfast, check email and read on who died while we slept.

Lots of famous deaths lately. Or perhaps, I'm just more aware.

Today, I get a new car. First new car I've ever bought. I inherited my father's thriftyness (opting to buy used cars thus far) and so this is a slight change for me. It seems indulgent-but, now, with Mom's memory still fresh in spirit,indulgence comes a bit easier.

Actually, in all honesty-appreciation comes easier. Life is sweeter. Love is sweeter. Existence is sweeter. Work is sweeter. Everything is sweeter when filtered through the knowledge that our reality is fragile beyond fragile.

I knew I was lucky-but I had no idea.

1:27 p.m. - 2003-09-27

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