in an nytimes blog today: finally, scientific evidence that validates an oft dismissed motherhood: how one reacts to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune makes one feel hunky-dory about one’s existence.
thoughts on my commute home: send money home; so that was what winter looked like on game of thrones; shakespeare in the park is now on; no one, this time, to call in sick for the day just to get me a ticket.
the guy ahead of me in the bus queue reeked of work. he was deep into his phone conversation; his phone cradled by the big grin on his shiny face; his voice, at times, treacly, like a runaway paint drip ostensibly allowed by an unoriginal post-modernist artist.