I was working on a paper in a medium-sized study room filled with quiet people. My significant other had just left and I was beginning to regret having papers to work on, or at least having been as dedicated to them as I seem to be tonight. I was beginning to get that same sense of ennui…
…but as I sat here typing and growing increasingly frustrated at my lot, from somewhere outside in the darkness I heard someone whistling. I slowed my typing to listen…
The whistling stopped. But not before I heard Albinoni’s Adagio.
I still have a lot of work to do, but I think I will collect my things in a few minutes and leave for home. I can do the same work there, at this point. The work has to be done, but it doesn’t have to be done here.
Four months today.