Sunday/Monday

This past Sunday Bear and myself were playing hosts - on a small scale. I thawed out some croissants overnight, then baked them into golden perfection (thank you Trader Joe's for your amazing frozen goods selection; sans the goat cheese swirls  - where IS the goat cheese?). A perfect morning: cup of coffee in one hand, homemade pastry in the other.

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This morning I wake up nice and early, scrub myself squeaky clean, dress the part to meet with a potential employer...

On my way back, a woman chases me down the street asking me about my current work experience and education, offering to call me up and arrange a meeting. That was a frst for me. I couldn't help thinking this is such a Haruki Murakami moment: a dream - like life events, whether it's a sudden disappearance of your significant other or letting yourself completely fade away down in a well, anything's fair game. 

                                                      

"Looking up at the dawn stars from the bottom of a well was a special experience, very different from looking at the full, starry sky on a mountaintop, as if my mind - my self - my very existence - were firmly bonded through my narrow window to each one of those stars in the sky. I felt a deep sense of intimacy toward them: they were my stars, visible to no one but me, down here in the dark well. I embraced them as my own, and they in turn showered me with a kind energy and warmth." The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle