bothered

I feel troubled in spirit today.

I'm not completely sure why. A lot of little things put together.

I miss Karly, for one. Karly is... the Jay Cooke State Park of my emotional landscape. She's the swinging bridge, the bracing North Shore air, the delicious wildness of where the St Louis River's root beer current meets Lake Superior, the jagged cliffs, the winding hikes, blobby toads, and streams afrenzy with water bugs. She's due to become the world's poorest lawyer, if she takes the LSAT after her Masters in Public Policy concludes. She's got a generous heart, a stubborn sense of right, a ready smile, and laughing eyes. I miss her. She makes me feel relieved. But she is not here.

I inspect closer, and dredge up other murky woes:

The one pair of jeans I brought from the States got stolen off my clothes line. It's my fault. I left them out. But I liked them and feel, now, robbed.

My neighbor Lene, who is Brazilian and with whom I would wish to be close friends no matter I lived, called me this morning with an urgent request to come home from work early. This has never happened before.

- Is there an emergency?, I asked, alarmed, speaking from my office.

- No, she reassured me. But please come home.

- Why? I queried.

- Because hormk fkenr corwsl qplmvi jowke mvl oqewij;fsalkj, she explained.

- Oh, I replied.

I have no idea what she said. Five times we repeated the entire conversation, but it still didn't make any sense. I just couldn't understand her, and she doesn't speak English.

So, I'm heading home a little bit early and don't know why. That's okay. But I am irritated at my poor Portuguese.

And, finally - sigh - I'm still lonesome.

Troubled, troubled, troubled...

(Karly)