Wednesday, January 2, 2018

My nose and forehead are cold this morning.  I stretch my legs crossing the border between warm comfort to icy cold.  The garbage trucks clank and roar in the neighborhood.  I close the window and turn on the heat.  I worry whether I removed the bungee cord from the garbage can. I worry about the raccoons raiding the cans. A ribbon of yellow/green at the edge of the eastern sky. Too cold for the rat last night.

I do loads of laundry, primarily sheets.  Some are now folded on the table waiting to be put away.  I listen to John Luther Adams music on Pandora, letting the drops of sound calm my mind.  I am waiting for my friends to return from their holiday trips.

I am reading Ann Cleeves book WILD FIRE, the last of the Shetland mysteries.   I say good by to the Island people and the murderers.