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Posted on 30 November 2004

I feel like a recluse these days. I feel pensive with little joy. I have no desire to dance. Everything seems like an insurmountable chore but still there are small wonders.

I hired a tree company to cut down the laurels that were higher than our roof. It was necessary. Not only have the laurels cut out light, they have given squirrels a route into our attic space. The company did the work Friday in the teaming rain and though the men did an adequate job, they left a mess. I put a cheque in the mailbox, as per the owner’s instructions, but included a letter speaking of pride in one’s work. I noted that if my words “strike a chord”, I’d like them to return and clean up. I expected the owner, money in hand, to laugh at my fancy words. Instead, he sent two of his workers, who worked for two hours and cleared the ground.

I had an email from my daughter who told me that she was not returning on the 15th of December. She would be home on the 14th.

I received an email from my mother who closed her note in capital letters. “HAVE I TOLD YOU LATELY THAT I LOVE YOU.”

My friend Kate wrote a novel in one month.

It’s not raining.


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