Pragmatic Boundry in 3 Stages

My head hurts. I’m trying to convince myself, in the spirit of the Governator that it is not a tumor.

The clock is ticking quickly at work now. Nothing to do there except sit around and be sad. Rather than reminisce and fall further into depression, I alternate between my headphones and a book. I read A Farewell To Arms in it’s entirety today as I had nothing else to do.

Which reminds me – I spent weeks reading Dr Zhivago, which frankly I did not care much for, only to find that it wasn’t even on my list of books to read. Funny, it was the only thing that kept me reading. My new outlook is possibly due in part to the fact that I’m fast approaching the age of spinster-hood, but it didn’t really seem that ‘romantic’ to me for a man to have three “wives”. I mean…I get it, I really do. Before this period of bitterness I’m fairly positive that I would rank really high up in the ‘hopeless romantic’ clouds. But now, not so much I guess. I don’t know. Good expression of the time period though. Particularly if, like me, you know nothing about the revolution.

Now I’m rambling.