Those of you who were concerned about the danger of English-to-Greek translation exercises propelling me beyond the measure of Golden Mediocrity, rest assured that:

• I spent twenty minutes copying out and translating the wrong set of sentences
• The sheet of paper I was working on caught a pool of salad dressing on the table, leaving a healthy grease spot in the upper right corner
• I arrived fifteen minutes late to class to turn them in.
• The sentences came back with their fair share of red ink, but
• I got those bad boys done.

This morning I will be vainly striving to catch up on my flashcard repetitions (I have 400 to get through).

English to Greek sentences. Go!

I woke up before Bugglesworth this morning, and read Wittgenstein in peace for twenty minutes, first thing. It soothes the soul to have done a part of one's work before breakfast.

I'm told that Wittgenstein is either the most or one of the most important philosophers of the twentieth century. I'm not so sure what it means for a philosopher to be important, but I think he's important to me.

The Mystical Meaning of Cat Excrement

Today is Ash Wednesday, the day when, each year, I wade out unprepared into the shocking obligatory waters of tradition. This year is no different: I have given no thought to Lent, despite my act of foresight of last year, viz. having put a warning of the imminence of this year's Ash Wednesday on the calendar. I do want to do more this year than the bare minimum of barely fasting on the required days. But I also want to do out of some motive more pious than a spiritual agonism.

So what makes sense is for me to pray to be made pious this Lent.

In other news, today is going to be the day when I finally change the cat litter. Now I know that changing the cat litter is something you are supposed to do everyday (unless you don't have a cat), but for me it is not that easy. Changing the litter is a symbol of rising above the everyday squalor of life and taking charge of things for once, and maybe for good. Every time I change the cat litter, I think, maybe, Amos, maybe this is only the first in a long series of days in which I ply the clumpy gravel. Maybe I am pulling myself together this time.