Archives for July 2009

Overheard at our house, DC Metro edition (twofer)

“You don’t know how disappointed I was to see the doors close just as I reached the top of the escalator last night, then had to wait 20 minutes for the next train.”

“I know.”

“It was one of those, ‘Oh, if I’d just crossed the street a little faster, or gotten behind someone faster at the turnstiles’ – remember that movie Sliding Doors?”

“Yeah?”

“It was just like that.”

“Oh?”

“Except, you know – for the mugging and the pregnancy and dying and finding you in bed with another woman and a lot of other stuff.”

“Right.”

“Yes, exactly like that.”

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Reading aloud from DCist’s own “overheard” column, after both of us have indulged in a hearty laugh:

On the Navy Yard Metro platform after Thursday’s Nats game:

Metro policeman: “People, move it on to the middle of the train. Let’s pack the car right Nats fans. You not cherry-blossomers. You people know to do this. You live here.”

“I think I love that far more than I should admit.”

Did I mention I don’t want a Kindle anymore?

Yeah.  Not until they fix this sort of bull. Or never.  Whichever comes first.

Hitting the wall

John asked me the other day if I had given up blogging completely.  I don’t think he was kidding, either.

The short answer is, “no.”  The longer answer has something to do with the combined effect of summer, school, and a full-time job.  I haven’t felt much like doing a lot of the things I usually enjoy doing: writing, running, and knitting are all on that list these days.

In the past, I might have freaked out, decided that I must make myself do these things I enjoy doing — else, who am I?  Enter identity crisis, then insert frenzied period of making a job out of things I enjoy, which is pretty much a one-way ticket to aversionville.

It only took me a couple of decades to figure out how utterly insane this is.

So, my new method of dealing with that feeling is to use the old “if you love something let it go” philosophy.  I have a pretty solid notion that these things I do truly love to do will return to me in their own time without my insisting that they Come. Back. Right. Now.  (A negotiation tactic that is only slightly less effective on one’s own desires than it is on our dog — which is to say, on a scale from “not very” to “not at all”).

In the interim, apologies for the light posting.