It is the fate of those who toil at the lower employments of life, to be rather driven by the fear of evil, than attracted by the prospect of good; to be exposed to censure, without hope of praise; to be disgraced by miscarriage, or punished for neglect, where success would have been without applause, and diligence without reward.
Samuel Johnson
Preface to A Dictionary of the English Language
I love getting packages and two have arrived today:
First, this book, Johnson on the English Language, arrived today. It is volume 18 of the Yale works of Johnson, of which I possess not one of the prior volumes, and of which, apparently, three earlier volumes have not yet been published. Still, I am excited. I might have to get the others, I always wanted a works of Johnson – I suppose I cannot escape that English Major part of my myself no matter how hard I try. I must try however, or channel my inner carpenter, because the bookcase situation is severely wanting and there is no space.
I have already dipped into the book, reading bits of Johnson here and there. It is a wet and dreary day, the 7th in a series of wet and dreary days and I am feeling a general sense of apathy and laziness settling in. I would not have thought I suffered from SADD but the continued rain has certainly dampened my spirits, much the way the misery of February often affects my energies and ambitions. There is some small consolation in watching the flood of water pouring down the driveway, driven quickly through the drain I put through the middle of the Iris Bed. No more pooling of water on the lawn, no more washing away of hard-earned fertile soil. Still, one can only watch the flowing of an artificial stream across the blacktop for so long before the gray settles back into mind and body.
The other package was my order of Nepresso coffee pods for the Nepresso coffee maker that Mom got me for my birthday. Now I can happily look forward to an afternoon curled up with Johnson and some nice strong coffee or espresso. I can think of no happier way to while away this terribly dreary afternoon.
But first, the driving cajun beat of Beausoleil and a good run on the treadmill await.