I still feel like I'm in somebody else's house. You know that feeling? You don't know where to put your toothbrush. You don't know if your precious books will be safe. You don't know which cupboard is for glasses and which one is for pots and pans.
We brought some of the little things today. I'm in that mood that means no good, wherein people show up and I give them things because I don't want to deal with the things. My old granny herb woman just found a niche in the china cabinet. I took two bowls out and put them in the kitchen. Bowls wash, but ole granny, and other things like her need to be taken care of.
When you live in the country everybody is your neighbor -- that song is stuck in that ole' 8-track player in my head. I think it when I see spiders dart out from behind pictures. I think it when I see that a mouse has been here, when I carry out two bats from the living room, when I see snakes slither off the porch and when I see silverfish around the bathtub. I'm not fond of old farm houses. Rotting wood in the windowsills, roof tin that rattles in the wind chimney blocks that threaten to tumble.
1 comment:
I never settled here. I never felt like I could put things down and they'd be there and be ok. I had one or two "safe zones".
"I can't find my phone," I said one day.
"Where WOULD you put it to keep it safe?" he asked.
"Um.... in the refrigerator?" That is where I keep my tootbrush.
It was time to move before we even came here.
LISTEN to yourself next time, woman!
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