Bar Scott

How to be Idle

Two weeks ago, my friend Cathy gave me a book called How to be Idle: a Loafer’s Manifesto. I can’t remember what prompted her to lend it to me, but I must have been fretting about my tendency to be over-busy, even to the point of being short with friends, short with my time at the piano, short with Brent, short with pretty much everything I care about. Without saying a word, she got up from her couch, walked over to the bookshelf, pulled out the book and handed it to me. I laughed when I saw the title, then told her I’d bring

Happy Day!

Last Friday I decided to avoid the phone and stay off my computer for the whole weekend. I’d spent too many hours at my desk last week and needed a break. It was the right thing to do.

Today, after two days away, there’s been a windfall. My college roommate called. My friends Annie and Maureen called. My friend Ann who I’ve known longer than anyone else in my life wrote a long email. I hadn’t heard from her in years. And then a high school friend, Sarah, wrote too. Needless to say, I haven’t

Finding the Balance

Yesterday was the 12th anniversary of Forrest’s death. I always take the day off. It’s not a particularly sad day, just one that I like to separate from the rest. I don’t do email or anything else on the internet, I don’t plan anything, I just get up in the morning and do whatever it is I want to do.

Brent made breakfast for me, which was nice except that it was 6:30 in the morning when he delivered it. The gesture was so sweet, and so like him, that I rallied, ate, then went back to sleep while he walked the dogs.

Busy-ness

I’ve spent most of the morning updating banking information for Sound Exchange, which is a company that distributes royalties to musicians like me. Turns out all the work I did this morning was already done, by me, within the last year. Meanwhile, there’s a guy in my bathroom tearing up the tile he installed eight months ago. The grout failed, so he’s doing it over again. I can hear him grumbling and swearing as though it was someone else’s fault even though it’s just one of those things. He had insurance. He’s getting paid, but he’s

RSS feed