A misty, moisty, morning…

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…and cloudy is the weather. I haven’t met an old man, clothed all in leather, but it wouldn’t particularly surprise me if I did.

Last night very late, while everyone was asleep, I padded along through the house to the guest room with the tall windows and looked out. A few windows were open to the sound of frogs and insects making a steady din. I looked at the trees in the mist and thought, oh, I am too busy. So much beauty all around, but I rarely stop to admire it these days.

Now it’s eleven, and full-on busy time. I was on my hands and knees this morning with a tweezers and a box cutting knife, removing straggly bits of wallpaper embedded in tile grout. I remembered a time years ago, pre-babies, when my husband, watching me carefully transfer pasta sauce into a container with a rubber spatula, told me with amusement about something called the law of diminishing returns. I wish I could apply that here, but you can’t just leave wallpaper sticking in grout, can you?

Soon I’ll be done. I resolve to go outside and enjoy the cloudy day. If I see an old man clothed all in leather it will probably be a biker, and I will smile and nod.

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