I had a job interview this morning. It went okay, I guess, but I’m not the greatest at job interviews and I didn’t feel like I presented myself as well as I could have. And then I walked around town in the rain and was hungry and a little bit mopey but didn’t feel like getting food from anywhere. Almost home, I stepped in dog poo (while wearing my good shoes) in front of the house that I hate walking past because its squalor seems to be crawling across the yard towards everything. Sigh. Some days, shit just happens like this. At home I made two pieces of toast and ate them with butter and squares of dark chocolate on top like they do in France (err, like I did in France, anyway). That helped. And I made coffee, though perhaps I shouldn’t have because it felt like my heart rate picked up before I was even through grinding the beans. Then came the question of cleaning the house. Why bother cleaning the house when I could relax and read and maybe paint something? But I like being in the house better when it’s clean, and someone has to do it. Remember when the Cat in the Hat eats cake in the bath and leaves a cat ring all around it? This is what I think about when scrubbing our tub. One of our cats likes to hang out in the tub and lap up the small puddles left from showers, but I don’t think I can blame her.
There were good points too. There always are. Two Anna’s hummingbirds were serenading the world when I passed by. They perched in shrubs by the water, their tiny beaks buzzing and chirping sweetly and their faces iridescent fuchsia when caught by the light. At the water’s edge, clumps and drifts of ducks placidly stirred – American wigeons and mergansers – and black oystercatchers and various gulls comically prowled the shore.