Sometimes the day is gray
A gray day. All day everything on the other side of my window seemed leached of color, edges dull and flat. Even the trucks occasionally rumbling by seemed to have cotton-wrapped wheels. I myself felt muted as it was a day spent with other people’s words, a nip here, a tuck there, a whole-scale re-imagining elsewhere. I suppose the fact that I was under blankets all day—my laptop balanced on an IKEA lap desk—added to that feeling of broadcasting from a cave. The phone didn’t ring once all day (hmmm, did I turn the ringer off again?), and the air wasn’t afire with the usual workday back and forth with my colleagues (what a pack of noisy birds we can be!). Now I’m waiting for the lentils to soften in a pot of Soupergirl’s Lentil Sweet Potato Apple Soup. which will need a pinch or two of salt to brighten the flavor. I think the blankets and I will relocate to the couch to finally watch La Dolce Vita, or perhaps it’ll be more quality time with Mrs. Woolf then an early bedtime. Rain is predicted for tomorrow morning. Perhaps I’ll sleep my way into the sharp edges of the storm, wake to see what salty brightness it leaves behind.