grind
It's Labor Day, which marks a three-day respite from the workplace. And right now the day, and the extended weekend, is winding down. It will soon be too-early-to-rise tomorrow, hike to the train, and return to "the grind." Strike up the band and break out the champagne. Er, maybe not - I must head toward the bedroom soon...
Maybe it was the contrarian thing to do, or I felt the need to employ myself in irony, but I did "labor" today. I swept out the (hardwood floor) living room, discarded some accumulated junk from the closet (it's garbage night, anyway), and mopped the kitchen. All of that had been neglected too long. A bachelor pad is one thing, but a den of dust and dirt is entirely another. And now I look, and it's (gasp) clean.
Now, a sedate Monday night. Solitude here, with a visit from recurrent companion melancholy.
Labor Day weekend was mellow. Friday night I was fatigued and lazy, so I availed myself of some entertainment, including Bill Maher's show on HBO. The rain all day on Saturday could have resulted in a washout, but I dragged myself out of the apartment and into Manhattan. I had several drinks with P. and started to fade around 2:00am. I suppose I had not yet fully regenerated from the work week. Of course, despite the "stay at home" conditions outdoors, I always enjoy the city on holiday weekends because it empties out. After drinks, I plopped into the back of a taxi and headed uptown. Gliding along the rain-damp streets beneath sodium vapor lights and the infiltration of omnipresent neon, I peered out at vacant office buildings, gated shops, and sidewalks devoid of pedestrians, and it was then that I felt a resonant connection to the city.
Thus marks the "unofficial end of summer," as Labor Day weekend is known. I welcome autumn. The comfortable temperatures, the brisk air, and the esoteric feeling of change as the season shifts serves to invigorate and reconnect me to a world I often abdicate during the summer months.
Maybe it was the contrarian thing to do, or I felt the need to employ myself in irony, but I did "labor" today. I swept out the (hardwood floor) living room, discarded some accumulated junk from the closet (it's garbage night, anyway), and mopped the kitchen. All of that had been neglected too long. A bachelor pad is one thing, but a den of dust and dirt is entirely another. And now I look, and it's (gasp) clean.
Now, a sedate Monday night. Solitude here, with a visit from recurrent companion melancholy.
Labor Day weekend was mellow. Friday night I was fatigued and lazy, so I availed myself of some entertainment, including Bill Maher's show on HBO. The rain all day on Saturday could have resulted in a washout, but I dragged myself out of the apartment and into Manhattan. I had several drinks with P. and started to fade around 2:00am. I suppose I had not yet fully regenerated from the work week. Of course, despite the "stay at home" conditions outdoors, I always enjoy the city on holiday weekends because it empties out. After drinks, I plopped into the back of a taxi and headed uptown. Gliding along the rain-damp streets beneath sodium vapor lights and the infiltration of omnipresent neon, I peered out at vacant office buildings, gated shops, and sidewalks devoid of pedestrians, and it was then that I felt a resonant connection to the city.
Thus marks the "unofficial end of summer," as Labor Day weekend is known. I welcome autumn. The comfortable temperatures, the brisk air, and the esoteric feeling of change as the season shifts serves to invigorate and reconnect me to a world I often abdicate during the summer months.
posted by Walls Falling at 10:35 PM
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