After our weekly bleary conference call with India at 6 a.m., I went back to sleep for an hour, feeling a small glow of happiness at having found the problem with our personal webserver’s webmail the night before. Funny how a little success goes a long way.
Walked with Jack in a warm, moist fall day, Jack’s coat the same color as the soggy, fallen oak leaves. Mass Ave smelled like baking bread, and even the side streets smelled good, gently decomposing biomass before the freeze/thaw cycle sets in firmly. Then off to work, my daily stop at Quebrada Bakery now having the feel of ritual, and the crumbs I brush off my shirt stepping out of the HOOPTY MOBILE a little archaeology of the morning.