It’s just the big house and me. And I make that big a mess of sheets on my own. That brown thing’s the sleepy shirt I am “leasing” for the next . . . well, one night, actually. It smells nice. Tomorrow I’m going to New York. But that’s not part of the story.
When I was little, I thought it was so silly that people put pillows on their bed with the express purpose of removing them at night. I still sort of do. But ours look like blue marshmallows, so I let it slide. (Also, they make the bed kinda purty.)
Our house dates from the late nineteenth century. There is no insulation, some windows have been painted shut, and when I say the stairs creak, I mean they CRRREEEAAAAKKKK. There is an unopened wooden trunk in the garage rafters that I really want bring down and unlock, but is too creepy heavy to do so. On the plus side: we have the best doorknobs.
This is my apron. It matches the kitchen floor. I’m kind of obsessed with it.
My mommy brought us coffee. It is very fancy.
This is our coffee grinder. We have that. I’m embarrassed to tell you how many coffee-related apparatuses (apparati?) we have.
There’s just no use asking.
I ground my nice Peruvian coffee beans in my nice Jersey-manufactured grinder. I spooned one scoop into the espresso thingy. And then I spilled the rest all over the sink.
Guess who’ll be bleaching the sink later today?
(And I took a picture of my mess, how embarrassing. Does this count as overshare? Don’t answer that.)
But at last, I had my cappuccino with cinnamon. In a day that will include dry cleaning, laundry, the library, soup making, packing, babysitting, and class: here’s a moment of zen.