A Great Deadener

“Habit is a great deadener.”
- Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot

. . . 33 days . . .

Last night I managed to get the exercise bike out of my car and onto the ground with little trouble. I also managed to get it up the stairs, although I never realized how many I had (19) and by the tenth I understood for perhaps the inaugural time why some weightlifters make horrid noises at the gym. I thought my fingers were going to jump ship, but I got it into the apartment! It’s positioned right in the middle of my living room.

My absolute favorite time of the year in Champaign is the spring, when all the cherry blossom trees burst into life. They’re my favorite trees, because they look like the personification of an exuberant grin. So it was with a flicker of delight that I descended the afore-referenced stairs this morning and glanced over at the long- bare trees near our garbage container and clearly discerned a maroon tinge on the branches.

Since the demise of my beloved Gilmore Girls I have been seeking a replacement and coming up empty. I kind of like the British show Doctor Who, but it has become too plot-centered in the recent season rather than character-centered and comedic. Thus, I was delighted to find a new show called Torchwood, a spin-off show that centers on my favorite character from Doctor Who. Things were progressing swimmingly and it seemed quite promising until the kissing... no thanks. Back to square one. Why does all television stink? The only things I enjoy right now are Disney specials on the Travel Channel.

The Koreans are home, but I haven’t heard piano playing lately. What gives? I see a light on in the hallway beyond the piano room, but not the room itself.