I still leave the house with sandals. Never wear gloves or a hat and usually, no coat. I know I am not even allowed to complain about the cold weather. And yet. Yet. Here I am, bitter about the overcast day outside that made me feel like I woke up too early, and the spend the day too fast.
Had a long conversation this morning with the delivery man. He became awkwardly interested in sharing his (sympathetic) views on immigrants. He seemed surprised that there were enough Indians in the world to make it worthwhile to open a whole, big store.
“They, sure are different” (referring to the Maharishi commune somewhere around here. I bit back the temptation to tell him about the white maharishis handing out leaflets, singing and generally being a curious nuisance all over India’s railway stations) to “I wouldn’t want to live anyplace like that.” (that being Bosnia and also Mexico).
Considering what is happening in the country these days around immigration, I was just glad he didn’t go into a whole thing about American jobs.
He also talked to me about his daughter, a first year student at the same college I went to. Worried Dad, touchingly interested in hearing what I thought of her career decisions. It was sweet.