Vivid dreams of searching for a toilet with sufficient, any, privacy. I get these, once in a while.
D eager to be out and about, while I hunkered down and endured the wave of hormonal side effects. I complain of it every month, and shall continue to do so until it leaves me be. So there. D may return with chocolate.
The red wool blanket is sadly in need of washing, and I wonder if a simple cold water, delicate wash and lay flat would not do as well as a dry clean. It shrank decades ago, before it was mine, before I was me. Should be fine.
Moby in his tight spot on the balcony, beside the AC unit, snug and sunny. The grass is a joy to him.
Tried writing again of love and keep getting tangled, the words obscuring my meaning, my thoughts.