Ten.Four Hundred & Ninety-One

  1. I can still hear the rain slapping the siding.

  2. The kind of morning you just want to sleep through. I just want to bring my coffee back to bed. But instead I walk around in circles in the kitchen, convinced that if I stop to sit I won’t ever get back up.

  3. The basement is almost done. How does one pack a bean bag chair? I don’t think I have a box big enough for this.

  4. I make a bouquet of parsley, thyme, bay leaf, leek, and peppercorn for the soup. It looks like a little bundle of magic.

  5. She comes to the door with her mother and a big bag. Gifts for children. Her mother says she came home and cried because we are moving. I try not to cry in front of my babysitter. I tell her mother she’s done a fantastic job raising her daughter.

  6. Inside the tissue paper is the apron that belonged to her great-grandmother. Before she leaves, I tell her that she’s my favorite Auntie. I will miss her the most.

  7. I get so much more done when I’m alone.

  8. It’s still dark and cold and rainy. This is the weather I won’t miss.

  9. Dinner for them is a bag of frozen little pizza rolls that I grabbed from Target this morning, pretzels, no veggies. I’ll make it up to them later.

  10. 4 days.