Welcome To My Bed

Gray sky, new day.

Redding has almost disappeared. Tomorrow, we drive. Tomorrow, we will be heading back to a too small bed and a carton of cigarettes. I have so much mail waiting for me. So many books. Random clothing. The things I've ordered and had sent on ahead of me. The 25th, we'll be moved in to our new place, and everything will be subtly different. More space for our books, more room to breathe. Three guitars in a corner and I still can't play a note. I have to finish crocheting our blanket. There will be so many things to hang up, so many things to sort through. I have moved more in the past six months than I have ever before in my life.

I woke up this morning to rain. No, I woke up this morning to open window shades a 8:30 AM because of a phone call. So we closed them, and then it rained as we fell back asleep. I woke up again to another phone call, and then a text message, and then perhaps another phone call. I told James that this was why my phone had been off all night.

In Massachusetts, there is so much waiting for us. Connecticut feels like a waiting room. But at least there are unlimited breadsticks. And we can make fun of the waiter under our breath. That works too.