Tuesday, April 3, 2007


Bought a rug at IKEA. When I got home, I had to weave it myself.

Homeless guy holding a sign, it says, "Broke, cold, and ugly." And you know what? He was.

In line at Taco Bell. A guy in a suit holding a big cardboard box comes running across the street in the rain. Runs through the landscaping bushes, runs up to my car. I roll down the window, and right there, through my car window, in the rain, he starts trying to sell me a roll-out floor-mat piano. He's carrying this huge box of them. He's desperate. Look man, he says, 40 bucks, and I'll throw in another one free. Ok 20 bucks. 10 bucks!

But�I don't want a roll-out floor-mat piano.

I tell the guy this. I tell him I don't have anywhere to put it, I tell him I don't have a budget for such posh luxuries as roll-out floor-mat pianos. Finally he leaves.

But now, looking back, in retrospect�I should have bought that thing.
Now, with the benefit of hindsight, I want that roll-out floor-mat piano like I've never wanted anything in my life. Why is this always how I make my choices?

So here I am at work, sitting on the sloping sides of the huge fountain in Seattle Center. Twenty or so jets of water arc fifty feet into the air, rising and falling in time to the soothing new-age music that emanates from the ring of speakers surrounding the fountain. The sun is high and bright, making rainbows in the mist, the breeze is soft and warm like breath, and I'm sitting here watching two of my kids frolic in the spray. Sometimes I love my job.

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