If all the world is a stage, then I am a method actor playing myself.
Some days I indulge my frustrations. My mind will engage knowledge and logic in the patterned issues and arguments of the day. Like screaming into the void, it serves no practical purpose. The powerful will do what the powerful will do. I will live with it. Attila will live with it. Everyone I know or probably ever will know will live with it…
I’d rather wash the dishes, so that I can eat my next meal from a clean plate.
In hot humid weather my thinking processes slow down, my body becomes clumsy, my hands and feet swell. I suffer relentless discomfort that will eventually deteriorate into irritability. We are in for it here, in for a spell of hot humid weather.
Attila used the summer kitchen today to prepare supper, a simple meal of tortellini with pesto sauce. Because we are not cooking in the house it is already beginning to cool, at 8:30 p.m. We opened the house up, and turned on the ceiling fan, as soon as the temperature outside fell to 25 degrees centigrade. By the time we are ready to head off to bed it should be quite comfortable in here.
I spent a few hours wrapping gifts for Terra’s upcoming shower. This is not usually my strong point. Attila usually wraps all gifts. But I wanted to wrap these myself, and my special project took some special care.
The evening is winding down. Attila sits reading his book. Mist sits on the small table beside his chair, staring at him with open adoration and expectation. And me, I am just tapping away at the keyboard, watching them out of the corner of my eye.
|RECIPES :: Cast
Wind N 7km/h
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