I like the air of mysticism surrounding an orchestral concert. The oboe’s first tuning A is a signal that the ritual has begun and we are about to embark on some occult communal experience.

I also like to play solitaire, and it occurred to me several months after first getting a smartphone that there are probably solitaire apps out there. It seems to me that it is a ritual celebration of the power of organization. There is some connection, whether it be sympathetic magic or confirmation bias, between my solitaire prowess and my effectiveness at accomplishing everyday tasks in an orderly fashion.

Sunday nights are a time for reflection. I have a light drink, fold laundry, watch Mystery Science Theatre 3000, and eat junk food. This is a high point of my week and I am severely distressed if events conspire to make me miss it. No other night works as a replacement. Maybe it’s the moon.


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