Mundane update.

Today, a day mostly at home, I washed clothes until I (apparently) broke my washing machine; washed dishes; made bread; made dinner; contemplated my own poetic project as well as my poetic means until I felt a little dizzy; walked the Bruiser; felt just fine.

A day mostly at home is pretty swell. But I wish my washing machine would spontaneously heal itself.

OKAY.

So, this week has included, thus far:

1. vacation Monday, which ended with

2. ceiling collapse/need a new roof Tuesday.

3. roofer consultations and bids galore.

4. visit to grandchild's classroom for class opera The Friends (excellent, by the by).

5. lunch with grandchild and fam.

6. second lunch with colleague and friend.

7. book group.

8. breakfast with daughter and grandson.

9. food shopping for

10. baby shower for other colleague and friend.

As full of delights as this list is--and it is full! heaven knows, busting out all over with delights!--I need to get to work.

The historian and I just had a little midday phone call, because (a) more roofing talk, and (b) I left my phone at a store across the street from where I had breakfast this morning. He said, "So what have you got to do today?"

To which I replied, "I have a whole list":

1. straighten (this verb includes a myriad of stuff and messes)

2. wash (the whites and the sheets)

3. make videos (which I owe, in a sense, my college...therefore, I have procrastinated and resisted--one of my small handful of key, signature moves)

4. sew (I have inventoried the piles of fabric I have accumulated over the years. I am going to make things out of this fabric. Some things.)

5. cook @ 4. For the baby shower.

So it's time to get cracking.

Notice how there's no writing in that list? I wonder: what's that about?

Modern conveniences.

The people, this is a clothesline.

Something about fetching this fairly ancient contraption from the shed, figuring out how to uncollapse it and post it in its designated clothesline spot (a tube sunk into the ground with its own tidy little cap for when the clothes line is not posted), finding the clothespins, and hanging our laundry out in the dry, warm, sage-scented mountain air gives me a big idea:

Me: That's it. I'm living here forever. I'm quitting my job and I'm living here forever.

Historian: Sounds like a good idea. And I'll come see you on weekends?

Me: No, you quit too and we'll live off the land. The Land. Doesn't that sound amazing. I'll be a total housewife. I'll do the laundry and cook and hang the laundry on the line. And I mean total. A Total. Housewife.

And the awesome thing is, I have loads of time ahead of me to play this little game. And take pictures of my scenarios.

Well, that's it for today. I'm back to work.