Idleness is good. Read this essay, it is very important. Then, the next time we go out for a beer or are stuck in traffic, ask me about efficiency.

[Via Briankaneonline]

Sorry I’m late. Beta and I got into an argument over economics on our way into town and I missed my turn. It occurred to her that she hadn’t been only braiding in history yesterday, because she remembered her teacher saying something about how politicians should be well-paid, while she believed they ought to do it for I don’t know what. Love of politics I guess, or perfection of their natural talent for politics.

Money would attract more people, though, I said, some of whom would be talented.

It was like walking barefoot into a roomful of hungry weasels. Scraps of bloody skin were dangling from my argument in no time. Nevertheless, I’m proud to report I held my own. It helped that I’m 45 and have a degree in economics, and she’s 15.

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Beta played a gig Friday night and I ended up driving around with a carload of teenaged girls having typical teenaged conversations:

Girl 1: Yeah, we’re translating Pyramus and Thisbe too.
Girl 2: Ovid, God.
Girl 3: We did him too, and I’m a grade behind you guys.
Man: Metamorphoses, hehe.
Girl 1: When Pyramus and Thisbe, who were known the one most handsome of all youthful men, the other loveliest of all eastern girls,– lived in adjoining houses, near the walls that Queen Semiramis had built of brick around her famous city, they grew fond…
Girl 2: Thou envious wall why art thou standing in the way of those who die for love?
Girl 3: And then he thinks she’s dead and falls on his sword, and she finds him and kills herself.
Man: O happy dagger, this is thy sheath. Ovid like so totally stole that from Shakespeare, man.
Girl 1: Dad, dad, dad.

Last night I fell asleep at twelve or one. The house felt empty, and too hot because I’d built a fire earlier in the day and sat on the sofa and read a book with Gamma and the fire really heated up the house. Around ten at night I made Beta shut off the DVD we were watching – Braveheart – in the middle and get to bed because she has an English test today. Around eight I got Gamma to bed, letting her sleep in the big bed because she often gets to do that when her mom is out of town, then I started watching Braveheart with Beta. She says Mel Gibson was better looking when he was younger.

Around six or so I warmed up some food for the girls, then played cards with Gamma and tried to practice cello and played along with her when she played a Christmas song on the piano.

Fourish I drove to the in-laws and picked up Gamma, where she’d spent the night, then went down the hill to the Advent market in the village center, where a number of women greeted me. I must have a doppelg

Metamorphosism, schmetamorphosism. Changing, pfff. You work at it, nothing happens. Or you think something happens but nothing happens. Or less than you thought. Or you change back faster than you’d wish.

But sometimes something does change. Sometimes you turn around and look back and see you’ve come a lot further than you thought. You’ve wandered clear across the mall and your parents are nowhere in sight.

I smell like four or five different products this morning. Hair wax, because I got my hair cut short. Some deodorant. Two different colognes, one on each wrist, because I couldn’t decide. I like the right wrist better. I also smell like soap, I suppose, and toothpaste and the gum I’m chewing: Orbit professional herbal mint.

Used all this stuff because I couldn’t take much of a shower this morning since the dermatologist cut something out of my back last night and I’m supposed to wait a few days before getting it wet. A few days before Christmas my kids get to take the stitches out.

Conversation one:

Woman: Anyway I just don’t get it, jealousy. I’ve always figured, either they want you or they want the other person. What’s the big deal? Although I would want to know. My husband wouldn’t want to know. If you’re going to leave me, I’ll find out soon enough, he says.
Man: That is exactly how I have always felt. I’ve never understood jealousy one bit. And I wouldn’t want to know either. What good does it do? Someone cheats on me and feels guilty, don’t come confessing to me in hopes of feeling better. Suffer, man.

Conversation two:

Woman: You’re not jealous of The Philosopher, are you? You understand, right?
Man: Of course. Do whatever you want. I know you love me. Go ahead and hang out with interesting people. Life’s too short not to. Anyway, I never really understood jealousy. I’m just not a jealous person.
Woman: Huh?
Man: What?
Woman: What about Break All Their Bones and stuff?
Man: What?
Woman: That’s what you said. If you caught any guy, you know, and so on.
Man: Pff. I said that?