That clock keeps on ticking... And everyone keeps asking, how long?
Isobel's Mom is in a flurry of nesting...
Every plate, cup, bowl, press, drawer, etc have been lifted, inspected, checked and accepted or rejected
More plastic boxes arrive everyday... and I've been hanging things and dismantling things and storing things like it's going out of fashion...
It's a funny relationship with me and Isobel's Mom... Things are complicated, but then I get the impression that everyone leads complicated lives nowadays...
She has an ex, I have an ex, she has a daughter, soon, we'll have a daughter together...
The weird part is that we live seperately... so her house is ready, preapred, clean and stuffed with all the essentials... mine remains the usual sharp cornered, dusty, bachelor pad...
It's the thinking that is wrecking my head...
There are so many unknowns... I feel like that Donald Rumsfeld quote...
In fact, the Slate magazine reprinted the quote as if it were a poem
The Unknown
As we know,
There are known knowns.
There are things we know we know.
We also know
There are known unknowns.
That is to say
We know there are some things
We do not know.
But there are also unknown unknowns,
The ones we don't know
We don't know.
Anyway, the point is I'm worrying about things I can't answer... So I should stop...
But it's hard...
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