Tuesday, November 18, 2014
The sun came out today, which makes all the difference, and right now I can see my favorite murder of crows swooping through the sky together, hundreds of them. Napping goes on around here every day, even if the human inhabitants resist. I am drinking coffee with cream and eating a piece of toast with sea-salted butter.
Some nights I sleep so lightly, worrying about Zoë and Isaac, worries with some substantiated basis vying with worries that appear ridiculous in the morning light--last night was like that, thoughts racing through my head and nudging me awake hourly. It's as if they're both lost, and twelve years old, or traveling solo through India with no Internet access. It's the opposite of that feeling when they (rarely) are both home and in their respective childhood bedrooms, and my brain is utterly satisfied and content with that knowledge.
I got a coat of primer on the kitchen walls first thing this morning, everything smooth and patched and sanded, even places that used to have enormous holes in the plaster--you would never know. Tomorrow, we'll get the first coat of actual paint (ultra white) on, and when it looks perfect, we'll start putting up the long wooden boards we stained medium-dark brown.
Watching Olive Kitteridge
Drinking hot drinks
Eating warm foods, as many orange-colored ones as I can
Listening to Serial, along with the whole rest of the known world
Cuddling with this cat, pictured above, who makes me stop several times a day to pet him and scratch his ears and kiss his head
Posted by Liz Woodbury at 3:56 PM
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
Post a Comment