Today is classic November.  Wet, but not so much that you can’t walk to the post office to mail a couple gag gifts.  “Do you want insurance or delivery confirmation?”  “Hell no.  It cost me fifty cents.”  Except I don’t swear at the postman.  (Unless they continue to deliver mail for someone who does not live here.  How many times must I write “not at this address” and stick it back out?  This time I wrote “nope, still not at this address” in the vain hope that it will get the message across.)

In non weather/postal service news, I watched 21 Up last night.  Apparently a new one just came out, 49 I think, but I started watching this series before there were dozens of holds at the library, thank you very much.  While I’m not watching them, the series seems slightly dull, but as soon as I slip in a disc…I’m mesmerized.  I cannot stop thinking about it.  About the children around me, and how they will change in seven years.  And how that 7 year old self is still encapsulated in the 14 year old, the 21 year old, etc.  Nestled like stacking dolls and my God, you can see it all there, waiting to unravel.  But on the other hand, you could never really predict it.  You only see it 7 or 14 or 21 years later and recognize that it was always there, really.

I also love knowing that tonight, 7 years will have passed in only 24 hours and I can watch 28 Up.

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