Monday, April 13, 2015

I got home at 1 a.m., fell asleep with the suddenness of a pebble kicked off a cliff, and then woke up at 5:30 a.m. because it was Monday and I needed to see my son before he went to school. So here I am, awake but still sleep-deprived, even though I have already cleaned up after the dog, dealt with an incident of credit-card fraud, and squealed with joy at the sight of daffodil spikes in a patch of bare ground. I hope to speak to you tomorrow in the guise of a person who has actually gotten a full night's sleep. In the meantime, read these words by George Eliot, the queen of loving kindness:
There are [those] who die poor, and never put off the workman's coat on week-days; they have not had the art of getting rich; but they are men of trust, and when they die before the work is all out of them, it is as if some main screw had got loose in a machine; the master who employed them says: "Where shall I find their like?" 
[from Adam Bede, 1859]

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