Here I am, awake again, mouse shit in the laundry basket- too much nature around here. A party day after tomorrow and not one dust-free surface in the house, baseboards needed painting seven years ago. You should see them now.
Big fat turkey in the refrigerator, you could use it as a bowling ball. Wouldn't affect my score.
Mildew in the toilets- yes! seriously! Don't even want to talk about the floors.
There's a rusty old glider on my back porch that sat in the woods for twenty years and no, it doesn't glide and no, we're never going to fix it and for some reason, it is pissing me off today like you cannot believe.
Another beautiful day in North Florida, perfect temperature, roosters crowing, light tumbling down and painting leaves. I live in my dream house.
The rooster crows to announce his presence on this green earth. I am here! I am here! I am here!
I write these short, choppy sentences, same-same. I am here.
And one is as of as much importance as the other.
This is a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other day. This is a don't-even-think-about-it day. This is a mouse shit in the laundry basket day.
What is the difference between Scarlett O'Hara and the Buddha? I don't know.
I'll think about it tomorrow when I am stronger, says Scarlett.
All is illusion, says the Buddha.
Even mouse shit in the laundry basket?
All you need is love, say the Beatles.
I see the light come shining, says Bob Dylan.
I will shit wherever I want to, say the mice.
I am here, I am here, I am here, says the rooster.
I think it is time to do the laundry, I say. I think it is time to clean the toilets.