A Good Day

Exhausted, and now the wind is howling. A low drone with branches scraping. The house shudders. This would have been the night I could have used a motel room. I'm dirty, and hacking up insulation, so I pack a kit and head into town; I need to shave and wash my hair, clean my ears and wash my neck. Luther's Moving is picking up the baby grand piano early and I need to be at the museum. But then I have a dozen errands I need to run, end of the year stuff. I cleaned out the fridge at home, throwing away a few things, and I dug a good deep hole in the compost pile, but the coons will dig it all up. It's just a game we play, our various natures. Talked with Samara this morning, she and Rhea had spent a quiet day at Marilyn and Mark's cabin, hiking through deep snow with the dogs. I'm not even remotely jealous. All I wanted was hot running water, cold water first, when dealing with fiberglas, to close up the pores. then I like to use something disposable, paper towels or part of an old tee-shirt, something I can just wad up and throw away. To wipe that transition zone. I wouldn't want to confuse anyone. Lord knows it's a slipperay slope. If you could have been someone you imagined. Don't go there. It's enough to talk the talk.