The scuba divers are out and about, scurrying around in their tight black suits and air tanks, unloading their cars and huddling beside their space heaters. It's fascinating to see them at seven in the morning, so dedicated, even when the forecast threatens rain and the rest of us are snuggled deep in our warm jackets. I've never had that urge. Especially when there's no tropical wonderland waiting just below the surface, no brightly colored fish or endangered monk seal to buoy their spirits. And yet there they are, weekend after weekend, braving the cold waters of Elliott Bay.
I applied for a few more jobs, rummaged through cookbooks, napped excessively. The cats need to be schooled in the time change consequences, meaning that it's not all right to wake me at six and stand on my face to demand chow. Other than that, the day is a blank slate. As soon as I bust out of this mini-funk I am going to take the world by storm. Or at least shower.
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