I was supposed to have an hour-and-a-half to write two blog posts. I ran late at the medical office where I work. I was supposed to go to the gym to run on the treadmill for a half hour or so. No time for that. I was supposed to reread an essay for my poetry class on Thursday. Ditto no time. I have been simply running out of time all day long.
On top of all that, I think I have to go to the dentist. My teeth are aching. I'm not sure if I have a cavity or chipped tooth. I may be grinding my teeth in my sleep. I have been known to do that during stressful times in my life. The beginning of this semester has caused me a few sleepless nights. Whatever the cause, my teeth really hurt.
Once again, I am running out of time, so I will get to my Ives dip question for the week:
Will I be named the U. P. Poet Laureate this year?
And the answer from Mr. Ives is:
And in a few minutes they were standing around on Riverside Drive waiting for a northbound bus, its last stop Fort Tryon Park. Shortly, around two o'clock, they were sitting in a crowd in an echoing gothically ornate hall listening to a group of choristers singing in Latin about the transformations of the soul and other such autumnal subjects, and in the midst of one such song, Robert, reached over and took hold of his mother's hand, holding it gently. And he had looked over at her, his expression saying, "I will always be with you, Mama, from this day onward."
Well, the paragraph is about transformations and music and comfort. I'm not sure if that means I'm going to be given the title or I'm going to be in need of solace.
Doesn't matter. Saint Marty's gotta get going. Out of time. Again.
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| Shouldn't that word be "endure"? Albom probably ran out of time to proofread |
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