Saturday, April 6, 2019

I poured the soap into the washing machine on top of the dirty clothes from a large plastic jug.  Now to look for soap in a cardboard box. No more plastic.

I don’t experience in sentences.  Impressions, wind bell sounds, airplane roar, ringing in my ears. Cold shoulders, restless feet, tightness on my hand.  It is the story telling part of my mind that adds verbs to the experiences.

Clouds moved on and the sun came out.  I sat on the front steps eating a hot fudge Sunday watching the butterflies and bees fluttering through the garden.

I am still reading ANGLE OF REPOSE, but I am tempted by the pile of books from the library.