Lazy Sunday

Wake up to golden syrupy sunlight filtering in behind the opening in the curtains. There is a crispness to the air that reminds me of apples, sugar bush outings, smoke, leaves, decay, darkness, aching sweetness that drops me to my knees, a lost kingdom of fairies, and the deepest quiet.

Naturally, I run my hands through my hair, and find nothing. Pouncing on the bed, I go through the little rituals of honey, and wake up mister. I tell him it's time for eggs. Only a solid breakfast will do on a day like today. I am less solid, becoming more etheral, untethered. I imagine I could float away, except for the heaviness in my lower limbs that bind me to the earth.

Trying to make a grocery list, shopping for meals we haven't eaten yet. Now I'm tired. I don't know what I feel like eating on Wednesday. Not yet. Too soon. Maybe fishes. Maybe fruit. I just don't know. I want risotto. I don't want to make it. All that stirring. I don't think that Tuesdays need that much stirring. Then, the idea of snacks overwhelms me, and the list comes to a stop.

what is this?

Hmm. I was playing with my hair just now & found a hair that was weird. Since I've had the paint out today, I thought that I might have got some in my hair. But no. I just looked at it in the mirror. It's like a little wire AND crazy curly. I have baby fine hair, so the texture really stands out.

OMG MY OLD LADY HAIR IS COMING IN.

shit.

I'm going to sit on my couch with a blanket, a cat and a cup of tea.