Ten.Eight Hundred & Fifty-Nine
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There really is no such thing as sleeping in any more. I think I’m going to bed too early to sleep in. Which means, I suppose, that I’m actual well-rested.
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He offers to make waffles with strawberries and whipped cream. Yes, please.
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Eat and then clean. I move quickly. I am anxious to get to the porch and the sun and a book.
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“Completion is an honorable achievement.” This sounds like something Robin might have said to me. Or maybe I read it somewhere. Either way there’s so much truth and wisdom in it.
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I grab a plate of leftover carnitas and settle into the sun. I crack open the book and quickly realize that I need a highlighter.
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He starts looking up acreage in different parts of the state, asking me questions I don’t yet have answers for. I’m only on page 16.
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“They look very French,” she says. They frames are gold, thin and round. And they do look cute on her. I remember that 10 is about the right age to start to have an opinion on fashion. You really begin to care when you’re 10.
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So much laundry.
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I add twinkle lights to windows in the kitchen and the living room. One layer of necessary coziness. I need the softness of this light.
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Sacred Economics.