counting the days
We leave for the rental cottage in 48 hours. The weather's neither here nor there, but I'm past caring. It looks like this will be my only week off this year (other than my stint of unemployment). I've been looking forward to this trip since we booked it (the day before I lost my job, back in April).
Three good things that happened today:
- Got a damn decent haircut at a place on Pape for $25.
- I've now made it to work three days knowing that my spare tube has a hole.
- Getting ramped up at the office so I can go on vacation (sounds nuts, but it seems to be normal).
(In which I leave the final word to someone else.)
If I had my life to live over, I'd try to make more mistakes next time. I would relax, I would limber up, I would be crazier than I've been on this trip. I know very few things I'd take seriously any more. I'd certainly be less hygenic... I would take more chances, I would take more trips, I would scale more mountains, I would swim more rivers, and I would watch more sunsets. I would eat more ice cream and fewer beans. I would have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary ones. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it all over again, I'd have many more of them, in fact I'd try not to have anything else, just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of my day. If I had it to do all over again, I'd travel lighter, much lighter than I have. I would start barefoot earlier in the spring, and I'd stay that way later in the fall. And I would ride more merry-go-rounds, and catch more gold rings, and greet more people and pick more flowers and dance more often. If I had it to do all over again - but you see, I don't.
-Jorge Luis Borges