Or, put another way, if God had wanted us to use hankies he/she would not have invented long sleeves.
If wandering around downtown taking the air can be called "nursing" then I am nursing a cold. It's in my nose and head; if I'm careful it will stay there and I won't infect the world around me. Much, anyway ...
So now here I am at my usual Wednesday station at Mousse, the scone is done and I've switched from coffee to juice - quite a tall juice, now I look at it.
The Square is empty of farmers. Two stands are selling wreaths, the hot dog stand now has commercial control of the center of downtown.
Since we're in the middle of the day and the Market isn't there to engage the crowd then you don't see the usual smiles and informal greetings that usual accompany Wednesdays. Everyone looks a bit more hardened and business-like.
At the same time when you do see two or more people walking and talking together - usually with coffee cups in hand - they stand out a little bit more.
Back at home there are two very disparate tangos on my desktop - one very folkish and melodic, the other a pattern-based sort of groove. I can't help working on both at the same time, switching from one to the other, jamming on the brakes in my creative head.
It's like painting lines in two directions on a highway using the same bucket of paint for both ends. You paint a brushfull heading North then run back, dip in the bucket, paint heading South, then turn back to the bucket, paint further North, then back again and to the South.
A little schizophrenic, at best.
Still, my brain - and heart - haven't exploded yet, so maybe some good will come out of it. At the very least I'll get two moderately boring tangos out of it - maybe the experience will lead to skills that make it easier to write one really good one - down the line.
Who knows?
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