“Despite his title, the Secretary of the Interior was a shallow man. He was given to surfaces, not depths; a cortex, not medulla; to the puff, not the cream. He didn’t understand the interior of anything: not the interior of a tenor sax solo, a painting or a poem; not the interior of an atom, a planet, a spider or his wife’s body; not the interior, least of all, of his own heart and head.

The Secretary of the Interior knew, of course, that there was a brain in his head and that the human brain was Nature’s most magnificent creation. It never occurred to the Secretary of the Interior to wonder why, if the brain, with its webs and cords and stems and ridges and fissures, with its glands and nodes and nerves and lobes and fluids, with its capacity to perceive and analyze and refine and edit and store, with its talent for orchestrating emotions ranging from eye-rolling ecstasy to loose-bowel fear, with its appetite for input and its generosity with output; it never occurred to the Secretary to wonder why the brain, if it is as awesomely magnificent as it purports to be, why the brain would waste its time hanging around inside a head such as his.”

• Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Tom Robbins , pp 295-296

More quotes from fiction. Nothing earth shaking, but don’t we all know people like this? I certainly know people like this.

Of course I probably spend too much time plumbing the depths and not enough looking at the surfaces. The surfaces catch me by surprise far too often and I would rather retreat back into my own head.

I can’t say there has been much reading here, obviously I am still slowly making my way through the same book. G came home from the hospital last night and although he is tired and sore and not yet fully up to snuff it is so nice to have him home. Even disturbed sleep, together in our own bed, with interruptions every hour was a relief and I experienced the best sleep I have had in over a week.

Meanwhile, slowly catching up, puttering, and just generally getting through life.

What a relief.