kingbird on fence
Journal of a Sabbatical


November 3, 1998


ok, so now it really feels like November




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Copyright © 1998, Janet I. Egan


Apparently the weather forecasters on tv really meant it when they said this morning would be hat and glove weather.

Think I can manage to go to therapy, vote, and pick up the laundry all in one day?

Can I get the town election officials to bring me an absentee ballot at the purple armchair in Starbucks?

My thumb is back to its normal size and color except for one purple spot right over the joint along the inside. However, my thumb is now cold all the time. None of the rest of my fingers or other body parts are cold like this.

It sounds like the Beans of Egypt Maine have an entire marching band in the upstairs bathroom. Or at least the drum corps. Thump, thump thump thump,thump thump is roughly the rhythm. And they're frying bacon in the kitchen. How come I never smelled anything that the biker chick cooked and I can smell just about everything they cook?

The drumming is getting louder and louder. There are two cars full of teenagers idling right under my window - blocking in my car I might add. I might be on the verge of becoming a crabby old maid. I suppose I could just retaliate with Siberian shamanic chanting cranked up to full volume with the bass turned up...

They left before I could get the shamanic chants cranked up.

The polling place was practically empty. I didn't have to wait in line at all. I was in and out in 15 minutes.

The laundry was ready when I arrived to pick it up.