The morning started well. I looked at the clock, it said 6:09 which would be the same if you spun it 180 degrees. I pictured it spinning lazily away and thought what a good time that would be to get up, but the spinning made me drowsy, so I dozed back off. I have my reasons for being sleepy, I guess, what with the sun blaring through the windows all night. In Greenland, suicides go up in the summer. The speculation is that people are just exhausted from lack of sleep. Living without darkness isn't all skittles and beer you know. There's also midnight golf.
As is so often the case nowadays, there was approximately no mail today. I suppose summer and the recession are partly to blame, but I think they're just accelerating trends as people move their communications away from paper and into electrons. I had time on my hands to chat as I went down the street. "My, you're early," I heard. I told people about the mail volumes. "We need more people to write letters. Go ahead, I can wait."
A slow day gave me time to ruminate. As they would almost have to, my thoughts turned to cud. I wonder if it tastes good to cows. I can't brush after every meal; I'd hate to have to eat after every meal, although if you look at my waistline, it looks like that's exactly what I do.
On the way back to the post office this afternoon, there were some kids standing in the middle of the street advertising a car wash, to support the Hemlock Society, I suppose.
By the way, if you're not sick of myself, check out Grammar Girl episode number 172.