It occurred to me this morning that nothing about my daily routine seems familiar anymore.
June 3rd, 2002
It occurred to me this morning that nothing about my daily routine seems
familiar anymore. We spent a wonderful week in Houston (we killed the D.C.
leg of our trip; relaxation was job #1, and wasn’t particularly served by
throwing another day away to travel). We looked at all the pretty houses you
can buy (for less than $200,000), we soaked up sun and heat, we ate well. And
now everything here seems foreign to me. The apartment is someone else’s; the
cats don’t seem to recognize me; my office seems strange. “Why do I
have a keycard for this place?” I wonder to myself. I’m disengaged,
removed. Connection closed.
What is it I’m supposed to be doing here?