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At this point, I must admit that it was clearly a mistake, a poorly considered action whose consequences should have been forseen, but were not.

After lunch, I went out for a stroll in the reserve land behind the office. It is 77 degrees degress out there, a mere 40% relative humidity, with a light 6 mph breeze blowing. The clouds are high and puffy, the sky blue. The birds joyfully vocal, singing praises of the solstice.

Summer has begun with as near a perfect day as I can recall. In no way, shape, or form do I want to be at my desk. I want to leave. I want to pick up a picnic basket full of fried chicken, macaroni salad, fresh fruit, cookies, and ice-cold juices, collect my wife from wherever she's working, and find a wide open grassy space with a few scattered large trees. If there were a couple others with us, a little tossing around of a frisbee would be in order. If not, then people watching, maybe romping with a golden retriever should one pass by, reading a good book in dappled sunshine. That is what today is for.

I, however, am not in a position to enact this plan. I am a flatscreen's slave until the evening. *sigh*.

Date: 2006-06-21 06:15 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pixel.livejournal.com
Yeah, I sympathize completely.

I've had a similar problem of late in that in the lovely weather the last thing I wanted to do was spend it on my self-assigned task of finishing the current project on Emily. I wouldn't mind so much if I was fiddling with her in the driveway, soaking up the sun and playing with my car at the same time. But a lovely day seems ill-used in a dark garage covered in paint dust wearing out my arms running a grinder over every surface of an engine compartment.

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