It is gray here today, inside and out. I have actually been up and gone back to bed to read and fallen asleep again, rain pattering a bit.
Last night I said to Mr. Moon, "Can we go somewhere tomorrow and stay the night away?"
"Yes," he said, and today he is home now from his hunting things and is offering to take me and I don't even know where we would go or what we would do or who would take care of the animals or if I could even muster the bright energy to pack a bag.
I washed my hair last night and shaved my legs yesterday, sitting on the edge of the tub, one leg stripped clean and then another. They had been beastly but now they are smooth.
I don't know. Maybe. Maybe if we just drove to Apalachicola and spent the night there. One night. Supper out, breakfast too. Forget the yogurt for a day. Eat some fish, maybe crab.
How strange to know that the best thing for how I feel is the hardest thing to achieve exactly because of how I feel.
And yet, it would be so nice to be on the river or nestled in a room in the old Gibson, our footsteps on the carpeted woodfloors of the hallway sounding as they do, muffled and yet giddy.