Wake-up call

The postal service leaned on my doorbell at positively eight-thirty this morning. I might point out that it is Saturday. Since when do postal workers start work at the crack of dawn on weekends?

They were delivering the set of little Theo's books I ordered from Amazon last week, as well as Emiliana Torrini's "Love in the Time of Science" and Rachel's "Handwriting." I can already vouch for the fact that Emiliana's album is enchanting; I was suprised to discover that she is only 23. Her album "Sunnyroad" led me to believe that she must be my close contemporary, what with its suggestion of a full life already lived.

I suspect it was the evangelical energy that was, however subtly, responsible for the o'dark-thirty delivery, however. These fundamentalists are such ascetics.