Boxes covered the bricks by the front door and I couldn't imagine what was in them. I hadn't purchased anything, hadn't ordered anything. Just at the mat, though, was a tissue wrapped bundle, fanned out on the bricks like an offering. A white rose peeked out from the tissue as it rippled in the breeze, and I knew where the flowers had come from even before I even searched for a card.
And then, of course, I opened my eyes and realized I really needed to get out of bed.
I suppose I'm meant to be writing a post...it's only been what? Three or four or five days since the last one.
Last night was the full moon, so naturally it was a night of vivid and odd dreams. And the cat running around the house, preparing for the Jellicle Ball.
(Yes, you really should read T.S. Eliot.)
At the beginning of the week, I read an article that spurred me to start a post about how to eat healthily on a budget. Because everyone tells you that you should, but they don't tell you how. Also, I'd seen a query somewhere from a woman with six dollars trying to figure out how to feed her family with it. As someone who knows from budgets and who once had five dollars a week budgeted for food, I've more than a little experience there.
Then, of course, everything got complicated. Well, it's always complicated, so it was just more complicated than usual.
Because there was a process server (occupational hazard of someone in the house working as an expert witness). Fortunately, this one was evidently not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, or at least not the most motivated, and left it at the office hoping the spouse would pick it up. Alas, the admin did not give it to the spouse; she mailed it back to the lawyer, which is how the office handles these things.
One of our friends got cornered at home by a process server. Scarred for life, I tell you. So, for the moment, we don't answer the door to anyone. Not that I ever do, actually.
There's more. There's always more. Microsoft is back to making my life hell. There is a certain group of people, a group that caused me tremendous displeasure a little more than a year ago, who cannot fathom that I do not wish to socialize with them, and thus, will not leave me alone. Not the brightest bulbs there, either. And my sweet feline friend Max has been diagnosed with cancer in his pretty little pointy chin, which is heartbreaking.
I have resources; there are workarounds to despair and anger and fear. My Rock Band avatar likes the dress I bought her: she blows kisses to the audience, jumps enthusiastically but demurely, and seems to end up in the back of the squad car much less frequently. There was zucchini bread to make, sticky sweet and filled with chocolate chips, to the delight of the kids. It was beautiful today, in the 80sF, but with such a cool sea breeze that we kept all the doors and windows open, the a/c off.
Post-Influenza-Like Illness, I am still inexplicably exhausted, and can sit down mid-afternoon only to fall into deep and dreamless sleep.
It was an odd airport, all cyclone fencing and open air benches. The woman in uniform at the desk told me in precise English with a formidable European accent that the first flight out was tomorrow, that clearly I had misread the sign, that there were only two flights per week and that I had to wait until tomorrow. All the while she told me this, precisely and formidably, she smiled happily, as if pleased she was able to exercise her English. So my brain turned, in its tidy and inimitable way, to Plan B...
Go listen to some good music: "Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats" from the album Cats. I know, but it's been two years, and I do like that song. And evidently, the neighbors have heard me singing, thankfully believing it to be the son. I do have a deep voice for a woman, or "low and throaty" as one of my high school teachers characterized it, sending me into paroxysms of perpetual embarrassment.