waiting for somebody come and take my hand

I write about the sky all the time. But without the sky, I don't know where it would all be. This morning the soft edges of the cottonball grey clouds would seperate to reveal luminous swathes of robins egg sky. The wind blowing the trees is cold, but the sunlight is warm on my skin. I wanted to just keep driving this afternoon, far, far down the road.

This morning I woke up from bizarre dreams that involve grading Russian homework for someone's class. I always have oddball dreams when I have to take the flexeril. But the morning was grey, and I decided to take out the trash. This segued into cleaning up the living room. I also discovered the source of the annoying tiny black beetle like things I've seen in the house lately. In a supremely Melynda moment, I just threw out the trashcan as well as the other items from the pantry contributing to the bug problem. I'm unsure if I will ever be able to look at a bag of brown rice without gagging again. Oi.

I made pistachio salad for the afternoon, Singles is on HBO and reminding me of a different world, I have laundry to run, places to clean and just nothing else to do. I love Paul Westerburg.