There are construction people in the house, spiffing up the kitchen a bit. Their activities mean that other activities, once mindlessly enjoyed, are out the window. There are stacks of this and stacks of that in rooms that are not the kitchen and its adjoining ante-way. Strolling to the refrigerator for a belt of orange juice has to be thought through and requires a request for admittance.
There's always something to upset the apple cart I guess.
My daughter graduates from college on Saturday and shortly thereafter will move to Pa. with her boyfriend who got a job there. The fabric of the household will change and I will miss her sometimes-imperious certainties ... usually leveled at her brothers.
It's raining ... a steady-since-yesterday exemplification of the grey skies above. The rain (who knows if it's true) seems to exacerbate the aches and pains that greet me gaily in the morning and make me wonder why getting up is a sensible idea: Maybe if I stay still enough, the universe will straighten out ... which of course is pure wet dream material, but I have never been one to turn away a good wet dream.
It's always something, right?
If it weren't something, what would it be?