I am compelled to pick things up.

Found this on the sidewalk the other day. Not far from our house.

Does picking it up and carrying it three kilometres in my pocket and straightening it out and scanning it and converting it to a web-ready file and posting it here -- does all this make me a crazy person?


The idea of someone on our street actually doing math (instead of, say, yelling obscenities at three in the morning, or fleeing the police, or setting things on fire) is a pretty buoyant thought, though.

* * * * *

This morning, when Oona came around the corner to show me her pig-tails, I attached a pedometer to her pants.

She better put in at least 2K today, or I'm phoning that daycare.

* * * * *

In other developments, I've put a new cigar-tin story in the shop. It has a kind of Victorian/Western feel.


  1. i always pick random handwritten notes/lists/formulaic calculations up. it's luckier than a penny


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