I wake up in a house built the year my grandmother was born in a part of town settled around the time her parents were born. My cat rubs her face against whichever part of my body sticks out from under the covers. Groggily walking into the kitchen, I pop open a can of food for her and pour myself a cup of coffee. Soon, the windows are all opened — I’m resisting turning on the air conditioning as long as possible — and the front door is propped open a bit for feline exploration. I read, check email, do a bit of website building, visit the usual sites. In the middle of the day the lawn might get watered. After much procrastination, I head to the gym. Then maybe more reading. In the evening I might have people over or go to a friend’s house. Maybe we go out somewhere.
I like it here, but I’m kind of drifting. Perhaps there’s nothing I can do about that except wait for something that provides traction to reappear. I don’t know what to blog.