I had a great morning. Man, mornings are always great when there's no one else in the house. Evenings tend to be a bit melancholy by myself, but waking up fairly early in a quiet house is just perfect. I made myself a proper coffee and sat by the washing machine reading Murakami's "What I talk about when I talk about running", and thought about how nice it will be when my foot stops hurting and I can go for long walks again.
Then I put on some clothes to go with the day - blue and stripy. I am not completely happy if I don't get to dress suitably for the day in the morning, suitably meaning suiting my own idea of what sort of a day it is. You can spoil my day very easily right in the morning by telling me to wear something else. I like looking into the mirror and looking how I feel. Naturally I always look a bit like I've just seen a ghost, because my hair is going grey and I have dark circles under my eyes. That's the one thing I sometimes adjust, because even though it is generally appropriate I understand that not everyone is comfortable with feeling like they've just seen a ghost and not really minding it. - I have nightmares pretty much every night, when I sleep at all, and that's been the way of things as long as I can remember. Even when I'm awake and walking about I feel like there's a ghostly web almost visible holding the world together, and sometimes I think I can see it stretch across someone's way like a big spider web with not even a spider in it to keep them entertained while they're stuck, and I feel sorry for them. But it's just the nature of things, and if I didn't worry I'd be someone else, which would be tragic, since being me is pretty good. Especially on a Saturday morning in autumn.
Today I'll go with the slightly spooked look.
I love the way the sunlight moves on a cloudy morning, it's like waves of light washing over everything. Maybe they'll invent an ultrasonic sun-like shower cabin like that one day that actually physically scrubs you clean. Or maybe I'll have a garden one day and just step outside in my pyjamas and yawn and it'll be pretty much the same.
The head of the patchwork bear I have partly crocheted is sitting on a wicker box by the window with a doggy expression of "what are we going to do today?" and I think: You'll be sitting on that basket making a silly face and I'll be writing two chapters of a novel about foxes. But first I'll go and have early lunch in a cafe.