Good Satruday

Like any good day, this day started with a brooding stormy look. Milena and I were supposed to meet to work on the thesis, but since there's this inminent threat-of-rain I wouldn't put Nagi in harm's way, so Mile and I decided to work from home and e-mail our results. We are working on the final 25% of our last chapter, but this 25% is quite large, so it could take us quite some time to get done.

Since my day was free that way, I went up to our tiny downtown and to run some errands such as returning the four movies I rented on Thursday, all of which I adored  - it was one of those unique cases when all the movies you rent you have never seen before and all of them are just awesome - and then went to the Post Office to finally - FINALLY! - mail Calendulina's letter. Her letter took me millions and millions of years to finish for a great lot of reasons. It was also filled to the brim with questions and replying to all of them was quite like being expected on writing a Treaty on The Letter Writing, Personal Philosophy and Me. In the end I had to enlist the topics remaining and promise to properly address them in the next letter - if there is a next letter. I mean, lets be honest here, people, Cal wrote to me like in December of last year and I mailed Today. What are the chances of she still wanting to penpal with me? After all, not everybody is a bucket of calm patience for penpalling. (Thanks Chuck I am ^_^)

Yesterday I shot out the TV and sat at my low desk writing until I finished the letter. This time, amazingly, it took me over six hours to get to the last dot. Good thing Kari wasn't anywhere near or I would have to endure him staring at me and wondering when oh' when will it be over. My Kari isn't a writer, so he doesn't really get the rush, the hunger, the experience of delving into the writing and losingf yourself in it. Have you ever had that feeling? When you realize the time passed only because your wrist hurts like hell and you look up while stretching your hand, making circular moves with your wrist and closing your fingers in a fist, and you see the clock on your desk or perched on the nightstand, or the one of the DVD, and for a moment you wonder if the clock is wrong or broken because it certainly doesn't feel like that much time passed.

It kind of doesn't work like that with the typed writing, with the computer writing at least, or at least not for me. Handwriting is magical. Today I'll work on our thesis, typing out some of that 25% we still have to complete, read a letter from Dani, settle my planner and prehaps even write in my journal. Yeah, I have a few private thoughts I would like to leave on paper.

This Saturday is quite. This Saturday is a Good Saturday.