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I find the way that life constantly integrates repeating patterns of activity and behavior with new stimuli and events to be one of the most interesting aspects of being alive.

Here we are again on a Sunday evening, but in contrast to the last time I wrote on this subject, those melancholy sentiments are far weaker and instead I feel a stronger sense of resolve and purpose.

Much of this has to do with a day I spent tidying and washing the kitchen floor, listening to music, reading Thea von Harbou's Metropolis, writing this and today's earlier posts. In short, it has been a very active and stimulating day. Even those actions that I might class as reflective, such as sitting in the garden under the sun, or lying back on the bed with Nick Drake playing through the computer and into my stereo, have taken on a more dynamic quality than they might otherwise have done so.

Add to this a shopping trip to buy a couple of chairs, watching a movie (The Curse Of The Were-Rabbit) this morning, scanning in some more old photographs into digital format from negatives, listening to and recording two radio plays, reading the newspapers, talking to both my parents and my mother-in-law on the phone, and the day begins to resemble an over-packed suitcase.

A suitcase that is now opened and contents scattered as I lie down finally to get some sleep. Has today's activity blunted the pre-work blues that often afflict me before Monday begins? Perhaps – how easily I fall asleep will be a measure of that.

Regardless, it's hard not to feel that this has been a very good day, and the sparkling clean kitchen linoleum seems to the most potent symbol of this. Not a sign I would have necessarily picked beforehand. Odd that something so mundane can seem so profound.

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