Ten.One Thousand, Five Hundred & Sixty-Four
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Still raining. Still raining. This is both a good thing and a bad thing.
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Laundry.
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All the veggies and the feta on a baking sheet. Hash browns and sausage on the stove top. I forget to turn on the coffee.
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No one is here. Someone is always here.
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Lights keep going out. This is going to be a long Sunday.
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Pushing past the uncomfortableness of asking for help. Especially when it’s offered.
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I say that I am confused and upset and angry and embarrassed.
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High water.
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”I do a lot of thinking up there on the tanks,” I say.
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Still raining.