Temperature: It’s 6/43 degrees on the 133rd of November. Winter never came, spring hasn’t quite arrived, so it feels like November; a rainy, dreary, endless November.
Eating: nuts and raisins
Drinking: Saving all my thirst for St. Patrick’s.
Watching: my husband grow a beard, which he has never sported in all our years together. Gotta say, and I’m not the only one saying it, he looks mighty handsome. He has those classic good looks where you could dress him up in clothes from any era and he wouldn’t look out of place.
Listening: to my firstborn wry-wit-wrangling the classics: “This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a coughing fit.”
Reading: My Cat Yugoslavia by Pajtim Statovci
Thinking: about my sister-in-law and her husband, and his poor mother who found out that her mother has tested positive for Covid-19 but was sent home because the hospital is about to burst. Neither elderly mother nor distraught daughter or grandson are allowed to travel. I hope she pulls through, but she is in her nineties. So many old, frail and ailing among us. Watch over them, dearest denizens, whichever way you can. And be well, sweetie darlings, wherever you are.
No comments:
Post a Comment