The Great Awake....seems to work....

I'm coming to enjoy that the best purloined wireless in my apartment is on the patio. To be computer-bound, but at the same time to smell the ocean breeze....to hear the hum of air conditioners all around but not have to live with conditioned air....to make better friends with my overgrown basil plant. (Want some, anyone?)

Speaking of, the same great outdoors called me out today over the noon hour. The Boston Public Library not only gets to have the Bates Hall reading room (which no one should die before reading in) but a marbled, fountained interior courtyard that allows you to a) be in the city; b) feel the sun on your shoulders; and c) not have to hear automobile traffic.

I went to the courtyard today, laptop in hand, over the lunch hour as part of an experiment: to do my date-hunting in the daylight hours. See.....it is well past 11:30 p.m. now and I am writing a blog entry. I am tired and this is a stretch of energy.....but I can write these entries because you love me and will read them even if they ramble. This is not the ideal time or state to be wooing men on match.com....who tend to be less forgiving.

So last night I scoped for candidates. Today at 1:30 p.m., when fully mentally engaged, I wrote: to a guy in his early 40s, avid reader of the Wall Street Journal and former hedge fund manager, who has been viewing my profile multiple times. He wrote back a few hours later, responding to my note of the markedly opposite political views held by the WSJ and the New York Times (my paper of choice): he claims he doesn't read the editorials. He also expressed mock horror at the thought of making it into this blog.

I must say....if he didn't want to be a part of this blog, he shouldn't have told me his current job is working for a foreign (his words) government. Now I'm going to have to refer to him as The Spy, because I wrote back to ask what country he's spying for.

So that's a one-for-one on the match.com sprint to the finish. Tomorrow I'm going to use my noon hour to write to the finance guy who has a degree in cello peformance....and if I'm bold and awake enough, to ask about the size of his hands.

Oh yeah.