Sunday, June 10, 2007

"What'd you do yesterday?" "Nothin'."

If you've ever seen the movie, Office Space, you might remember the scenes where Peter is sleeping through Saturday while his boss leaves many phone messages asking him why he's not at work. A couple of days later his coworker asks him what he did that day and he says, "Nothing. And it was better than I thought it would be."

I saw that movie again Friday night, and decided it sounded like a good idea: a day to do nothing.

Well, no one can do nothing. I mean, you can't sleep all day because you'd have a backache. I would, anyway. Last time I slept all day was when I had a bad case of flu and sleeping seemed like a really good alternative to being awake and hangdog-sick. Even if you're staring at the wall you're doing something. So there really is no nothing, there's always something.

I went to the library and took back a book and a couple of DVD's I'd checked out the week before. When I got home I walked up the sidewalk and looked at the lawn. "Needs mowing," I said to no one.

Sally went with her lifelong friend, Kris, for a day of girl stuff. She left at 9:00 a.m. and I said, "I'll see you about 11:00 o'clock," but I didn't mean 11:00 a.m. Sally and Kris do this thing a couple of times a year and usually spend about 12 hours together, which is enough to keep them from seeing each other more than a couple of times a year.

I watched a DVD, Fiend Without A Face, a 1950s science fiction movie about invisible giant brains sucking the brains out of people.

I went into my computer room and wrote a blog. I wrote a couple of e-mails to friends. I looked up some information on Google.

I went back out in the living room and read a couple of issues of The New Yorker. Interesting articles in the May 28, 2007 issue. One is about the Belgian comic book character, Tintin, and his creator, Hergé; there's a report by author Paul Theroux on his visit to the country of Turkmenistan, whose leader is at least as cracked as Kim Il Jung of North Korea; then a story on the question of what were Secretary of War Edwin Stanton's real words when Lincoln died: "Now he belongs to the ages," or "Now he belongs to the angels"?

I never seem to have enough time to read. It's a luxury.

In the late afternoon it started to get hot in the house and my air conditioning came on. I don't remember much about the next few hours because while the a/c was on, my brain switched off. I know I watched a movie on HBO's On Demand but I can't tell you much about it. It involved shooting and a car chase.

I was in bed, reading a book, when Sally walked in the door at about 11:10 p.m. I wished her good night, turned out the light and then my own lights went out for the next eight hours.

It was a great day, my day of doing "nothing." I'm going to schedule another of those days sometime in the near future.

Ciao for now.

P.S. Sally showed me the dozens of digital photos she took yesterday while touring near Park City. Here are three of my favorites. Click on the pictures for full-size images.

A house in Midway, Utah

The Provo River in a drought year.

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