gmail

I have Gmail, thanks to the power of Livejournal and the bad work ethic that permits me to read my friends list at work. Thank you Johanna, and I hope you have fun with that Murdoch boy.



That's Marco, our first household servant. He makes divine coffee.

This weather puts me in an evil mood.

water water

There is a river of water running down the sidewalk at least half an inch deep. Water pours off the roof directly in the middle of the door to the laundry room. I don't know why I am even bothering to put the clothes in the dryer.

A fierce part of the storm blew in this afternoon and the thunder set off all the car alarms in the parking garages.

It's good weather to stay home and read.

I can't help but think

We turned on the television for our evening Simpsons to go with dinner, but every channel is full of the riderless horse and the flag draped casket on its slow journey to the rotunda.

I supposed I should be more moved by this. After all, the man was the president of my country for the first eight years of my life.

I can't help but think there would not be room enough in that rotunda for all the caskets of those who died of AIDS in the 1980s. Nor for all the other caskets, the victims of the crimes of Reagan's administration.

domesticity

I have baked two dozen muffins, blueberry ones and cranberry orange ones. I did three loads of laundry. For a little while, I walked barefoot in the rain, where the water came up to my ankles on the sidewalks. In some places it reached my calves, and I watched it spill over the concrete and run away across the parking lot. Now there is a warm and fluffy cat sitting on my foot while I type.