The week between Christmas and New Year's Day always seems like it exists outside of time. Nothing much happens. People are on vacation, either physically or mentally, or both. We all talk about the things we would like to get done in January, but don't even entertain the thought of starting them now. We make lists perhaps, but don't actually reference them until after the start of the year. Being busy now would interrupt the death rattle of the old year. We can't have that. Let the year die with a little dignity, and hope that the replacement year will bring better things (although, I can't complain about this year - lots of good things happened).
I'm full of ideas for things I want to accomplish next year, and my procrastinating soul rejoices at the fact that I don't have to do anything until next week.

The last Sunday night/Monday morning of 2003 is cloudy and windy. Leaves skitter down streets, and occasional gusts of wind remind us to pay attention while driving, lest we get blown off course. Rain has been forecast, but is still percolating high above, with only a few drops making it to the ground. The Wall Street Journal is 38 pages, which is about the smallest it has been all year. The wind plays tricks with papers this small, sending them skyward as I throw them. One paper even broke something - a light, I think. Perhaps the customer will complain tomorrow. Perhaps not. Lights in apartment complexes often remain broken for weeks after I break them.

cds I listened to while seeing a lot of the papers I delivered Thursday night still sitting on walkways: Bohren & der Club of Gore "Black Earth", Ecke Yep "Tuva Ensemble", Vera Bila & Kale "Kale Kalore", V/A "Music From the Nonesuch Explorer Series - Africa" (Great horns! I'll have to find some...), and Lila Downs "La Sandunga"