I don't know what to write about today. I never know. There are a million things on my list, but it's what's in my brain that counts. I keep trying to write. I have a cold and feel kind of blotto. Today, I walked the dog anyway. I worked with Nick with his math anyway. I made dinner anyway. I went to four stores to find flag lapel pins anyway. One woman running a store was wearing one, but didn't have any to sell. I folded clothes anyway. I even picked out the shredded tissue from all of the clean laundry knowing that I had been the one to make that mistake. I tried, without success, to fill out my medical form online for a camping trip this weekend that I don't feel well enough to attend. They need me to go because there aren't enough adults going. I'll go anyway.
I want to be in bed. I feel just bad enough to want to skip everything, but not so bad that I lose track of time. I'm bored of hanging out here when I'm at home. When I'm out, I want to be at home, in bed.
Tonight, while Nick and I were working on math with the sliding door open to the screen, a robin came to bathe in the tiny bird bath. She looked too big for the tub. The birds are inured to the sound of our voices. Then, the mountain beaver came out and was ripping up sword ferns and dragging them into a hole in the hillside. This creature, one we've only seen once before in the twenty-one years we've lived here, didn't seem to mind our voices either. We must make a lot of noise, a lot of noise that doesn't sound at all dangerous to our neighbors. Well, it hasn't been, has it? No one is hurting them. Even the dog has been oblivious to these creatures. Oh, he whined a little when he saw them. The two cats sat at the screen and stared. Shoot, we were all there, staring at these round creatures just ten or twelve feet away who moved around as if we weren't there. So why are they so shy about being seen at other times?
"They really do look like beavers!" Nick said. "No, they look more like fat prairie dogs." The only thing I'd add to that is that they have wrinkly ears and they're mousy brown rather than chocolate or tawny colored.
I like having these neighbors. It made the math more fun. It was a distraction, yes, but a nice one.
Now, I'm going back to bed.
Thank you for listening, jb
I want to be in bed. I feel just bad enough to want to skip everything, but not so bad that I lose track of time. I'm bored of hanging out here when I'm at home. When I'm out, I want to be at home, in bed.
Tonight, while Nick and I were working on math with the sliding door open to the screen, a robin came to bathe in the tiny bird bath. She looked too big for the tub. The birds are inured to the sound of our voices. Then, the mountain beaver came out and was ripping up sword ferns and dragging them into a hole in the hillside. This creature, one we've only seen once before in the twenty-one years we've lived here, didn't seem to mind our voices either. We must make a lot of noise, a lot of noise that doesn't sound at all dangerous to our neighbors. Well, it hasn't been, has it? No one is hurting them. Even the dog has been oblivious to these creatures. Oh, he whined a little when he saw them. The two cats sat at the screen and stared. Shoot, we were all there, staring at these round creatures just ten or twelve feet away who moved around as if we weren't there. So why are they so shy about being seen at other times?
"They really do look like beavers!" Nick said. "No, they look more like fat prairie dogs." The only thing I'd add to that is that they have wrinkly ears and they're mousy brown rather than chocolate or tawny colored.
I like having these neighbors. It made the math more fun. It was a distraction, yes, but a nice one.
Now, I'm going back to bed.
Thank you for listening, jb
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