Mondays are nothing terrible. Or overly much original or fun. They are inside days. There are no great pictures, or inspiring visuals with tinkling bits of bed music.
I should make more videos. I have a note, I wrote somewhere in a note to myself in one of my notebooks, that says “Shoot more video.”
Many of my notes wind up in my notebooks. Fancy that. The problem with that statement is the plurality. Many books mean less review, which means less remembering, meaning, in this instance, fewer videos.
I did laundry this evening, can you tell? There’s something about the repetitive sounds — next time don’t tune it out, really listen to what your Kenmore is trying to tell you. There’s some sort of story in that kerchunk kerchunck kerchunk, gurgle and blurble. There’s meaning in the chaos of the woosh of the drain.
There’s not, really, a meaning there. I’ve been spending a lot of time with words and commas today, and it can make you a bit silly.
And so I will leave you with this, a profound thing I read somewhere. The sentiment is more important than the original location, I think:
I do tend to repeat myself a bit, but only for the sake of emphasis.
I’m going to put this is in the signature file of my emails. This is only here, again, because it was important the first time. If I felt I’d explained it earlier, you wouldn’t be reading this. My apologies for not having enough time to make the original telling more clear.
Kerchung, kerchung, kerchung, whirrr —
I’ve noticed that the dryer, which turns itself off, can also turn itself back on for a few extra revolutions. I wonder what that means.
