slow sunday morning xii
Good morning (afternoon)! Although I did have my first coffee of the day at right around noon, I've only gotten around to writing and otherwise being a productive member of society right about now, 3 or so.
Baseball season is finally back, so I've been using the sweet sweet 2pm weekend games as my timer for getting lunch, as well as my second coffee of the day from the caf. Consistency is key, right? Although the Jays have been playing like utter crap the last little while, I'm still happy to have one of my favourite casual watching pastimes back in my life, if only until October.
Right now, I'm sitting in a glass tunnel that connects the fourth floor of my Architecture Building to the adjacent building. There's only a few people around on this quiet Easter Sunday. They're scattered everywhere, all within view of my aluminum-lined watchtower.
Sightings
- A couple in windbreakers huddled together as they stroll beneath me. The Canadian urge to dress for the 8 degree weather while neglecting the feels like 0 sub-header is strong.
- The first year archies who crossed over from the other building, toting handfuls of cookies and fruits. They undoubtedly came from the caf.
- Chopin's Nocturne Op.9 No.2 in E Flat Major echoes up from the piano by the entrance. The first few bars are repeated again and again, each time with a slightly different tone. Someone's practicing their dynamic control.
- A first year friend who has seldom left the computer lab in the last few days or so. He and I are one in the same, perpetually working, always later than we should be.
- A master's student in the wood shop, visible on my left side, looking down to the first floor, the yellow glow either from the lights or the plywood littered absolutely everywhere. I've seen her passing through during later night piano sessions, yet this is the first time I've actually witnessed what she's been doing in the wood shop after she passes me by. Sanding, sanding, sanding.
It's officially that point of the year of yearning for the scorching heat of summer with every slightly warm breeze that passes through. Right now, that breeze is a howling one, coupled with the rapping of cold hard rain on the window panes. Perfect for writing in this glass cage haven, not so much for basking in. Soon enough, just as the canal skating season came and went, I'll be tired of the summer in exchange for the grind of university again. Best to just enjoy things as they come.
p.s. I'm currently listening to the Esher demo of Julia by the Beatles. Absolutely perfect for a moody Sunday such as this one.