I'm glad that Kurt and Lori and my parents get along so well together. It was fun spending the day with them, and Phillip, today.

When Phillip and I got home, the latest issue of Utne was in our mailbox. In the "View" section, there was this piece that seems to speak directly to me and my "song stuck in my head" obsession:

THE BRAIN'S TOP 40: Walking around with some inane Top 40 song stuck in your head? Well, it could be worse, according to a study reported in Psychology Today (June 2004). Many elderly people, especially those with hearing problems, experience aural hallucinations - old tunes constantly swimming around in their heads. The most popular hallucinatory music? The 1861 William H. Monk hymn "Abide with Me." Other in-the-head hits include "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina" and "Yes, We Have No Bananas."

Whatever song is constantly stuck in my head twenty years from now, I hope it's a song I know the words to.

Given the circumstances, it's understandable that they're cross-training me to work in the office. It's even flattering. Still, I'm not happy about it. I don't like working in the office, but that's not the problem. I accepted this job as a front desk position, with the understanding that I'd help out in the office occasionally. Now, suddenly, this job as turned into exactly the opposite. I'm now an office employee helping out at the front desk when needed. They tell me it's only temporary, but it may be this way for months. It's nobody's fault except the office employee who's flaking out for reasons I don't know. They know I'm not thrilled with the situation, but they also know I'm willing to do what's needed. Maybe that's in my favor.

I returned to The Hatha Yoga Center last night. I wanted to meet Ki. Doctor K has been praising her for a long time. She is a wonderful teacher - lots of positive energy and encouragement. I pushed myself more than I've done before, and I'm feeling it this morning.

After class, one of the students introduced herself. She takes classes with Lisa at Seattle Yoga Arts, too - the Saturday beginner classes.

There's a woman I've seen a few times on the morning 60. She may be a regular. She always has her 5-ish year old daughter with her. They always sit up front. The mom always opens a book as soon as they sit down and reads out loud to the daughter as the bus travels along. I think that's nifty.

Today, I reached page 101 of Living To Tell The Tale. This morning, I received an email from the library reminding me that the book is due back in four days. Living To Tell The Tale is 484 pages long. It is not a book to be read quickly. I won't finish it in four days.

It's funny that I've never paid attention to how long the Seattle Public Library loans out its books. I think Living To Tell The Tale had a shorter than typical loan, because it's a recent publication. But I'm not sure.

This short commute of mine is denying me my favorite reading time.

Where is this wanderlust coming from? Why all this nostalgia for Holland? Why am I rewriting Waking Up In Ashland? Why am I thinking about another weekend in Portland? Is it disappointment that our trip to the ocean won't happen for another year? Or is it something else?