I run Workrave now and I love it. It's a nifty little program that keeps track of the time I spend typing and/or mousing and forces rest breaks at intervals and lengths which I determine. I can snooze-alarm them and even tell them to get bent, but if I do, they remain in the corner, passively fuming with their red "I told you, but you ignored me and now look where we are" negative countdown. It's really the next best thing to having a midwestern mother around.

"You are a big boy. Do whatever you want, but you'll be sorry if you do that. You'll see."

For those of you who think Seattle is the passive-aggressive capital of the country, try growing up in Ohio.

I've been surprisingly good about giving in and allowing my body to walk around the room when my timer warning counts down, and I've discovered something interesting. If you look out any of the panes of glass that seem to cover massive holes in my walls, you can see sunlight and things happening, like nature and shit, and dogs walking by. I know, it's hard to believe, but it's true. What's more, with a little nudge, the panes of glass open up letting wind comes IN your house. Right in. Not asking or nothing, just right in.

Other things I've discovered:
- The cats are actually alive during the daytime hours and appreciate being recognized for it.
- When I pee at times that I have to pee instead of waiting for pages to load, my bladder doesn't throb.
- There are other rooms in my house and some of them have food in them. A quick check of wikipedia tells me that food is necessary for most mammals to survive.

Still, half the time the rest breaks come at the worst moments. I squat before them and meditate like Obi-Wan before the force doors, and as the counter ticks off 8...7...6... towards the end of the break, I pace back and forth and scowl at the Darth Maul of my error-ridden compile.

On one of my breaks today, I decided that I was going to the post office. While there, I witnessed this great moment of child ante-upping:

Curly-headed blonde boy: "I am four years old."
Tomboy girl he just met: "I am four years old AND I have four loose teeth."
Curly-headed blonde boy, obviously outbid, falls against the wall.

When tomboy girl's father had to leave, he told her to say goodbye to her new friend. New friend. They waved to each other and she left, and in the span of time it took her to walk out, curly-headed blonde boy became as involved in examining a bug on the ground as he been had talking to her. This really inspired me. As I waited, I watched the same thing happen to many of the children who for some reason found it fun to leaf through priority mail envelopes and fill out false change of address forms.

I watched those moments come upon the kids and how they unerringly and unquestionably embraced them, held them for as long as they lasted, and then let them go and moved on. Strangers became friends in seconds based on first connections, with the almost universally agreed-on notion that as kids, their job was to be with other kids. Friends became strangers just that fast, which led me to question whether there was a duality there at all or just one that I was making up with my adult self.

They were little dancers, all those children, deftly weaving between moments with the motivation of joyful discovery leading them. For me, it was the best fifteen minute break of the year.

Tonight, the breeze comes in the screen and the months of sleeping in the hot evenings, naked in the moonlight and the thick air approach.

Compared to my weekend, I'm finally finding some peace in the passage of my life again.