Eight twenty five.
I was just at the store, where Cathy held down the fort. It was a slow Sunday morning, so I took the opportunity to ask her if she was married. The answer was no, but she said she’s enjoying her freedom as a single person. She also said she’s had a few boyfriends, and she has quite a few friends in Eugene. Then I asked her if she lives in North Eugene, to which she replied that her place is about a mile away from the market. And she knows I live around the corner somewhere. Thus, I wasn’t a hard sell about hitting on her, and her response was not a total rejection either. Maybe I can ask her to a friendly cup of coffee sometime, as long as she feels comfortable. Now, in hindsight I can’t believe my audacity with her, and yet we were pretty rational together.
Nine o’clock. There’s just a light rain this morning. The birds sing in the rain and everything feels quite natural for an April day with its sweet showers. Sometimes Oregon seems like a transplanted England in climate, though the people are nothing alike. The only comparison is life up on the campus.
robgradens 