For the love of Sedaris

Today has been simply lovely. It has been raining off and on, then a major storm swept through. Although I felt sorry for fair-goers as I imagined them scurrying for cover while shielding their deep fried cheese curds under their armpits, I welcomed the sudden down pours. Our new lawn has been dying slowly because I put a stop to my husband’s excessive and expensive watering habit. The front of our house has been turning a darker shade of dirt with each passing week of continued construction on our street. And I was a little bored with summer. I needed the rain. Fall is almost here and now I feel refreshed. Other than staring out the window watching raindrops fall, here is what else I did today:

In the morning I worked on my thesis, or what my husband refers to as “my stories.” He giggles when he says this because it reminds him of when his grandmother referred to soap operas as “her stories.” I am relieved that he can so easily amuse himself. Working on my stories exhausts me. Can anyone else relate? I can do one at a time. Some days even less.

I started out the summer feeling terribly guilty and worthless because I kept reading how my fellow bloggers and classmates were churning out thousands of words each day. These are all hard working people with real jobs and full lives yet some how they managed to produce ten times what I, the part-time freelancer, could. But recently I have come to realize that we all have our individual paths. I am just walking down mine slowly, casually, while others are zooming by me in Ferraris. Or whatever fast cars they make now. I don’t know cars.

So after I could no longer look at the screen, I made myself a cup of Elite (instant coffee from Israel, it’s divine) and plopped down on my couch. I had two choices in front of me. Thich Nhat Hanh, or David Sedaris. While reveling in The Miracle of Mindfulness seemed appropriately poetic on a rainy afternoon, I stayed true to my shallow self and picked up Sedaris instead. I know I am behind the times and that this is not news to anyone here, but he makes my day. His sense of humor is just self-deprecating enough to be charming without being overly dramatic. It’s an understatement to say that his writing is flawless. I rarely laugh out loud while alone in the house with no one but the confused dog to share in my joy, but today I did. A lot. And it was good.

The maple tree in my yard is already changing colors. There are orange leaves sprinkled on the ground, and I am not sure how to feel about that.