Do you ever find yourself guiltily wondering what a dead man you never met would say about your actions?
Taking a walk with my Mom the other day, I plucked a piece of wild grass, shredding off the seed pod between my fingers. Thoreau's comment in Walden about city people and their need to touch plants while walking through the woods came to mind, giving me that automatic sense of unease I've been saddled with whenever I take a walk since I read Walden freshman year of college.
Or packing lunch in the morning, walking back and forth to the fridge 3 times, I mutter to myself, "What would Frank Gilbreth say?"
1 comment:
Too funny! Sometime I think about that, too, especially when I've vacuumed the same floor twice in an hour.
Post a Comment