tuckova

Ducklings, I am sorry, I fully intend to write something marvelous every day but then I don't.

1. My grandmother could never keep pictures in frames. My parents have never in my memory had a front door that just opened. I've been trying to figure out what my perpetual house flaw is, since I am so nearly perfect in all ways. I have finally realized it, and it is tragic and obvious: I cannot get curtains that close all the way over the window. Think of the metaphorical implications I KNOW. Imagine the stress of trying to choose window dressings for the cotthut, nearing completion and currently draped in ripped bedclothes. Blinds? Curtains? What am I less likely to mess up? It was a feast of quandariness. I finally picked orange blinds. I will take pictures even if they don't fit.

2. By "nearing completion" I mean most of the walls are done. Not the electricity or the exterior or the painting or anything like that. Just: After 3 years, we have a roof and three walls. Woot. Come visit.

3. I have an odd affection that I only realized last year for putting pictures of things next to things that are related. To wit: I have a picture of a man smoking beside the door leading to the balcony where we smoke; I have a picture of water next to the plants (remember to water them, get it?), I actually have a picture of a door next to a door. So I really wanted to get a great picture to put beside the bed, because, well. When I saw these pictures I couldn't even narrow it down, because I loved them all and they were all perfect (the unlikely friendship between the winged whale and the octopus was particularly appealing) but then… skeletons! It was too good. And then about 3 nights after we hung it up I was Tired Beyond Reason and Inexplicably Sad as befits my advancing age and Friar leaned over me and brushed my hair back and talked and talked and talked to me, telling me stories intricate, and I fell asleep to the sound of his velvet radio voice and a centipede curled around my neck and I thought: good choice.

4. Also, I cut my thumb. I took a picture of it some 4 days after, so it is not THAT dramatic but I still get to invoke Sylvia Plath if I want to. So there.