One of those marvelous "marking time" sort of days...

I seem to have had the energy of a sea sponge today. Galina not being here is pretty depressing.

I've got an offer to work on a fairly large translation job for a pittance. I countered with some terms and conditions that I hope will mitigate some of the financial damage.

The weekend work was sent on time, and I did get an editing job, which has also been done and dispatched.

The rent check from New York did not arrive, but is promised (apropos of which, I'm also trying to keep a positive attitude toward the outfit from Chelyabinsk that owes me so much money).

Mike will be arriving tomorrow, whereupon he will get himself set up and begin installing flooring on Wednesday.

Back when the engineer and electrician crawled up into the attic to assess what was up there, I followed them and spied a number of boxes that have been up there since about the time I left Pagosa to go work in Houston, in January 1996. Today, I worked up enough energy to go up there and bring a half dozen of the boxes down and into the dining room.

There was nothing earth-shattering in the boxes. One was filled with some volumes from an ancient dead tree edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica; another contained a collection of 80- and 90-year old Hardy Boys mysteries (e.g., The Tower Treasure, from 1927). A third box contained my minuscule collection of outdoors books. There are a lot of paperbacks, too, but I don't feel like reading right about now.

I feel strange, being alone like this, as if I am performing some kind of penance. Having Shiloh and Hana around is comforting.

Cheers...