Today I came home craving, more than chocolate or salsa which is a big deal if you know me, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I just bought new peanut butter last week, and eating fresh peanut butter is delightful anyway, because the top is smooth and perfect, and dipping into it with your knife (or finger...who am I kidding?) is just as satisfying as popping bubble wrap, if you ask me. So I had this new jar of peanut butter to look forward to, along with delicious grape jelly and bread in my mouth all at the same time. Until. I discovered it. My bread. All of it. An entire half a loaf (today's blog is brought to you by the word "oxymoron") was green and fuzzy. And, as I sadly transferred the plastic bag of formerly-edible-bread from the bread box to the trash in an unceremonious dumping sort of way, I was surprised that more than anything else, I felt betrayed. Betrayed by my bread that was not there when I wanted it most. I mean, what's the point of being a food staple if you're going to turn on someone like that? I blame Thanksgiving, where, for a week I had food provided for me through the family dinner, the leftovers, the going out with friends, and the having time to prepare real food - there was just no time to think of sandwiches, nor room for them in my stomach. So anyway, I was betrayed. That was the point.

The other thing I wanted to mention is that the wind is whistling around the eaves while I sit here typing this, but it doesn't sound like wind, it sounds exactly like pigeons cooing. And when I get too absorbed in typing and forget where and when I am for a moment, I hear it and wonder at the birds sitting outside my window. This has happened at least three times in the last fifteen minutes or so. So there's that too.

This whole post has been written in the dark, since I really only stopped by the computer to check tomorrow's weather report before bed, but I can never just 'stop by' the computer. So now I'm sitting, but I never managed to make it to the light switch, so it's still dark, and I'm realizing that there are certain computer keys that I still don't know automatically, like the question mark key. I must glance down to find it unconsciously, because I didn't realize this was an issue until it took me four tries to find it by touch back up there when I was talking about bread.

I think it's important to be aware of these things that we usually do unconsciously whenever we can be. Noticing things in general is useful, and much easier for me to do again now that my semester of grad school has ended and I have time to do things like think and breath and write for fun. My next post should be about my recently developed, new-and-improved 5 year plan. But saying it out loud might jinx it. How does academia look upon people who are ardently superstitious? I hope the answer is "favorably."