Nine Below
8 a.m., winter, -9°C. I’m wrapped head-to-toe in layers of wool as I head out to photograph the sculptures adorning City Hall and other buildings nearby on Market Street. There’s a lot going on up there. Symbolism and whatnot.
11 a.m., 5 miles, 2 hours, and two coffees later. A small pot of rice steams on the stove. Nearby, a tin of smoked mackerel waits patiently.
For months, no, for years, I’ve been studying in the mornings to stay current in my field and changes to the technology, holding down a full-time job during the day (a very grown-up kind of job, no less), then heading out into the evenings to take pictures for an hour or three before returning home to cook dinner, then spending an hour or two importing and processing the day’s captures,1 and, finally, sharing some of the haul with The Internet. Nearly every single day.
It’s starting to wear me down a little. I’m falling behind on tidying up as a result. When something has to give, my chores always give first. I will clean the apartment after lunch, but maybe I’ll take a quick nap first. Yes.