Stomping over the bridge home and in a mood, I bump into my neighbour. He is off to post a birthday present and is pleased at finding just the right present for the right person. The wind is blowing and the weather can’t decide between sleet, rain and snow. I tell the neighbour that I am feeling grumpy. That a draft of a piece of work is going back and forth between me and a co-author and I am getting tired of looking at it. The neighbour recalls his friend, a designer from San Francisco, and how she was talking about how it used to cost twenty bucks to get a plan couriered across town. Since email, plans continually get sent back and forth and the process takes twice as long. Email, he reckons, has just made us lazy and less careful about what we send. I walk away thinking about this and how co-authoring would work if I was using the post. At the front door of my block I see another neighbour who asks me if I know what is going on with the recycling bins that have been full for over a week. He says he might do a run to the tip and if so he will take our rubbish too. We walk up the stairs. His partner and baby are standing by their door. The baby looks back at me with a face as equally grumpy as my own. His bib reads ‘I’m a baby, what’s your excuse?’ A fair point.


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