I was off on Easter Sunday this year, but didn't end up going to Knoxville. It was a shame, too -- I woke up around 10:30 maybe, and really wanted to be with family. Ah, well. Maybe I'll try to visit on Rosa's birthday.
At any rate, yesterday was an excellent day off, and I don't know if I'll be able to top it today (somehow, I have two back-to-back days off this week). ...I went to Kroger first because I needed quarters to do laundry...and purchased some flowers while there. I did three loads of laundry and cleaned the whole apartment (minus Amanda's room, of course). It took me all afternoon, which was fine. I have such a strange relationship with cleaning. Sometimes it's the last thing in the world that I want to do, so I don't do it. I don't like cleaning while other people are around, either. Don't know why. But yesterday the weather was gorgeous, NPR was on (I listened to an entire afternoon of NPR yesterday -- "Wait Wait Don't Tell Me," "The Splendid Table," "A Prairie Home Companion"), and I thoroughly enjoyed cleaning up.
Afterwards Matt and I went to the Brewhouse and came back to watch the first half of the Amityville Horror which was on sale.
So today I have nothing pressing to do. I could go to Provence and read. I could go to Cafe Coco. I could stay in, reading or drawing or watching TV. So many options. Hmmm.
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What's in My Journal (by William Stafford)
Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean
things, fishhooks, barbs in your hand.
But marbles too. A genius for being agreeable.
Junkyard crucifixes, voluptuous
discards. Space for knickknacks, and for
Alaska. Evidence to hang me, or to beautify.
Clues that lead nowhere, that never connected
anyway. Deliberate obfuscation, the kind
that takes genius. Chasms in character.
Loud omissions. Mornings that yawn above
a new grave. Pages you know exist
but you can't f ind them. Somebody's terribly
inevitable life story, maybe mine.
1 comment:
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