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| Did you ever have a good morning? I'm having one right now. Woke up, did it, then 5 blocks up to Marketime for soy milk and veggie sausage for biscuit breakfast. I walk up the alley with skateboard for ride back down but don't get very far before I hear jingle of Miso's bell. She comes running, scrunches and rubs against a pole, then flops and rolls gratuitously. If I keep going she'll follow me too far so I backtrack on board and take another route. I hate to ditch her but it's for her own safety; we don't want her crossing streets. It's quiet enough to hear birds and little else and I'm grateful for the weekend, when progress is put on hold, and I think how much better life would be if there were a 4-day workweek for all. Above 42nd St, next to a new hole (Seattle's symbol of progress), a 1600 sq-ft house is for sale by owner, $519K, a bargain in this out of control real estate market. Guess we'll continue to rent. | A dump truck rounds the corner on its way to another new hole just down the block, the driver looking bored and superior to it all. I breathe his wake of fumes. In the store, a man talks to the dairy manager about raising mushrooms but he can't afford the licensing fees for the copyrighted [sic] spores. Maybe he'll go to South America and get his own. The cashier is hungover, been there 3 hours with 5 more to go. I recommend vitamin B and wish him luck. On the way back I meet the owner of the $519K house, planting signs pointing to his open house. I tell him I hope he doesn't sell to a developer. He agrees: "Not everyone wants to live in a condo." Response so far has been strong. Gimme Lean in pocket, soy milk in my hand, I roll down the gentle grade home, carving turns to control my speed, past the three dump trucks now crowding the street. So much for the 4-day workweek; 6 is still the norm. |