Resurrection

In what will likely be my last trip to the cinema for a bit, I went to see the matinee of Matrix: Resurrection. Taking the bus is incredibly intimidating for me whenever I go a route I havent’ been before. (Afterwards, it’s immediately pase, completely old hat and NoBigDealWhatsoever™️, so I don’t know why I drag my feet so petulantly, but I do.) I took the bus to the Grandin area for the first time, and of course it was just fine. I really like the updated interface with Google Maps that lets me know which bus to get on and where the stop is, all the way down to showing which side of the street to be on. The bus dropped me with 20 minutes to spare before the film started, so I went across the street to the Co-op and picked up a couple cups of rye flour from the (ever-shrinking) bulk section. My sourdough starter got trashed in this summer’s move, and I haven’t had the strength of spirit to undertake making a replacement. People have feelings about their starter, and I’m definitely in that category.
 
No spoilers about the movie. I loved it.
 
In a bout of serendipity, I stood around talking with one of the other folks who came to the matinee (I think there were a grand total of five of us, all told, in the show, and I don’t think any of us knew each other. Is this a thing, going alone to the matinee on opening day? I thought it was just me.) The conversation was surprisingly good, and none of us knew each other, and it was refreshing to have a thoughtful conversation without also feeling as though we were trying to one-up each other. Maybe it has something to do with being a matinee. Anyway, near the end of the conversation, one of the guys asked if I edited other people’s work, and I raised an eyebrow and said, In fact I do and I was just mentioning that I’m open to take on a few more authors. Apparently his roommate is moving out post haste due to changing demands of the PhD program at Tech, and in losing his roommate, he’s also losing an editor. We talked a little about what he write (fiction) and what his goals are (publication) and what I do, and he was interested and said, I guess I don’t have to take out a classified ad anymore! I gave him my contact information.
 
The milk delivery folks switched to glass containers only and ditched the plastic option. This is great and I always preferred it, but the management of getting the containers back is a bear, and they are heavy. A half gallon of milk already weighs quite a bit, and in glass weighs ever so much more, and I get five half-gallons a week. The bus goes near the delivery location, so I’ll be scouting how much walking is involved in getting There And Back Again. It may well turn out that I need to make a couple trips a week to be able to manage the weight, and if so I’ll be scootering instead of paying for the bus whenever weather allows, bringing home a gallon at a time in the backpack.
 
At home after the movie, I put the starter together for Day One. It will take some time to get going. It feels homey to have it up on the top of the fridge, perking away.
 
Movies take a toll, and just being conscious does too. Then the conversation was good, but by the time I got home and settled, I was worn out. I made tea and changed and settled in with aspirin, a glass of milk, and a bit of a rest.
 
It was a Very Nice Day indeed.
This morning as I made a pre-writing pot of tea, I was thinking about the Carrie-Anne Moss quote from yesterday. Choosing not to have pressure is serious emotional work, no less than developing and maintaining washboard abs. Unlike washboard abs, though, it's possible for any of us, at any time, to take up this work. And the results are amazing.
 
I like it.
 
I woke up and jotted down a thought while the kettle heated. A thousand words later, I really like what I have written, the kettle is cool, and there is still not any tea. No matter. Tea can be made. The muse must be entertained when she arrives.