This evening, desiring the kind of self-importance that only comes with casually walking across town carrying a transit and a notebook,
relishing the stares of children who stood watching me expertly shake out the tripod and level the platform,
admiring the meticulous charts and graphs I had slaved over with ruler and stubby pencil,
Maybe I should be a scientist after all.
But then the mosquitos arrived for the feast, and the tripod fell askew, and my calculations were incorrect.
I consoled myself with a large dose of Anna Karenina.