I love early mornings. The utter quiet of the world. The feeling that you are alone in the universe & it's yours. The air is fresh and you can pull a shawl around your neck & go & sit outside. A few birds squeak and scream in the distance and eventually Jimmie hendrix gets up and stomps quietly around, checking up on his territory. Even the first early golfers near to 8am sound less garish & will soon be on their way, leaving a cooing dove and chatting something else to accompany the belches of a frog on the lake.
Normally, by this time, I've been for a run, but today, I've begun the laundry. In this state, at least as tiring.
Lee has taken over a significant amount of my clothes. I still have lots left. Does this mean that she is deprived? Her closet is overflowing - literally bursting at the seams (I'm not allowed to touch it under any circumstances). Is this some Freudian thing about taking over from your parents?
The lovely partially overcast sky is clearing & I guess the sun will come out. Everyone knows that I love the rain, so soon I'll be driven indoors by too much light. Enjoy ing the last few minutes of my granola breakfast w jh finally schnoozing at my feat.
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