I just flopped out on the bed, Cryptonomicon close to hand, ready to satisfy the periodic attempt to do something worthwhile with the time. I'm getting dangerously close to finishing that book. And we all three waited. Summer's a time of waiting in many ways. Kids wait anxiously for the start of the big summer holiday.
Parents wait anxiously for it to end.
Farmers wait anxiously for the right turn of weather for whatever it is they need to do next. And the rest of us just wait. When you're of the right frame of mind there's a long, slow rhythm to the summer wait, one you can hang Hopkin-esque lines upon, impossible to breath, unyielding in their stubborn refusal ever to end. Was a time I tried for that, tried to find the measure of the summer. A vulgar pursuit.