I said to someone yesterday, in reference to a home project that was interrupted by Bayreuth and is now looming ahead of me again, that nothing exposes and rebukes your slovenly, disheveled life like trying to clean the basement.
I was wrong. I'm trying to update my resume now, and the basement-cleaning is comparatively cheering, sort of like Christmas at the house of the crazy lady with seventeen cats ("Look at what I found! Whatever was I thinking when I didn't throw that out?")
In between trying to put my slovenly, disheveled work life into presumably alluring form, I'm bribing myself by buying more theater tickets. Oh, and writing the occasional blog entry. . . .
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