Wednesday, October 08, 2008

It's Wednesday

A curiosity happens on Wednesdays. At least, it seems to me. If I am to hear from family or friends via email the first of the week it is usually composed and sent Sunday evening and then I hear very little until Wednesday. This includes the requisite number of jokes. For some reason the soul must be lifted and the numbers start to swell on Wednesday morning. This sharing generally peaks sometime on Thursday and peters out Friday afternoon. But, that is not quite the case with the numbers of emails that are trapped in my spam filter. These taper off on Sunday evening only to pick back up on Wednesday morning and swell until Sunday morning. Just, thought I would share.

We are such creatures of habit. Today I had an appointment out of town at 11:00 a.m. so my morning routine was disturbed. I did not get to check the computer for messages or even the address for the appointment. So here I am now in the afternoon doing morning things. Nothing wrong with that just askew.

On way back from my appointment I was reminded of how many funny road and/or street names there are around the countryside here. Folks must able to name their own easements and for some driveways. Today I saw "Substation Road," "Tobacco Road," "My Way," and "That Way." Those rank right up there with "Pooh and Tigger Road" and "Serenity Lane." I think I should set out to photograph these markers.

And, finally, I am now convinced that with the internet we are all closer than "6 degrees of separation." It happend twice in the past two weeks. I received the same email from at least seven different people from seven different areas. The first was a Sarah Palin article and second was a Halloween cartoon. The real "makes me wonder" here is that in only a couple of cases did I receive both items from a single person.

Hope you are having a good one!

2 comments:

Alexandra said...

I'll have to see if that email thing holds true for my account - I'll let you know after a couple of weeks...

Anonymous said...

I love noticing/noting routines and then seeing the ways I violate them There's something about routines that feel comforting -- and disregarding them, in however minute ways, can be freeing. Isn't it nice that it's good either way?

June