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Emmanuel nascetur pro te, Israel
Dec. 22nd, 2006 11:59 pm
Currently at Toronto Pearson: 7. High today: 8. Started raining before I left the library last night, and it's been raining ever since, wherever I've been. It's looking like snow, perversely, for Boxing Day. But then, I feel bad hoping for snow anymore, for the sake of the emus.
There's quite an array of Toronto weather stations, and a few close to the bit of not-quite-Toronto where I am right now, listed in the Environment Canada archives, the great majority of them (and all of the ones near here) defunct.
Remarkably attentive readers will have noticed an unresolved tension in my reports on the penned swans. I had initially thought that their food was at the bottom of a bucket of water, and then later I said that a squirrel was in their food dish, eating their food. Based on yesterday's observations, I can now offer something toward a clarification: what at least one of the swans does is pluck grass, roots and all, out of the ground, dunk it in the bucket of water, and then eat it.
I often think that I'd get more done if I could divide my waking and sleeping in bigger chunks--like, instead of seventeen hours and seven, say, five days and two. I feel like I've just gotten going, like I'm about to really get somewhere, and then I go to sleep and wake up and everything needs to be decided all over again. But then I realize, if I slept for a couple of days, it might just as easily take me a few days, instead of many hours, to get going again.
There's quite an array of Toronto weather stations, and a few close to the bit of not-quite-Toronto where I am right now, listed in the Environment Canada archives, the great majority of them (and all of the ones near here) defunct.
Remarkably attentive readers will have noticed an unresolved tension in my reports on the penned swans. I had initially thought that their food was at the bottom of a bucket of water, and then later I said that a squirrel was in their food dish, eating their food. Based on yesterday's observations, I can now offer something toward a clarification: what at least one of the swans does is pluck grass, roots and all, out of the ground, dunk it in the bucket of water, and then eat it.
I often think that I'd get more done if I could divide my waking and sleeping in bigger chunks--like, instead of seventeen hours and seven, say, five days and two. I feel like I've just gotten going, like I'm about to really get somewhere, and then I go to sleep and wake up and everything needs to be decided all over again. But then I realize, if I slept for a couple of days, it might just as easily take me a few days, instead of many hours, to get going again.
