Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry


Mostly sunny, but the chill has returned, here in June. It's only 64˚F, a good twenty degrees cooler than this time yesterday.

No writing yesterday. I'm trying again today. The packing continues. I feel as if I ought to be saying more about the move, about...a lot of things. I used to go on and on and on here. It likely means something, that I'm not writing more about these days, about the preparations for the move, about my feelings regarding it all. But I'm not sure what it says.

Today, Lydia is one year old.

Last night, we got dinner from Bucktown. The kitchen is getting too crowded with cardboard and half packed to cook. And then we watch reruns of Drag Race, because we were too tired to do much else. I didn't get to sleep until well after Spooky. I watched all of Billy Wilder's The Apartment (1960) and started Howard Hawk's Bringing Up Baby (1938) before I finally slept.


6:06 p.m.


Jun. 4th, 2018 02:01 pm (UTC)
Every now and then my mind wanders uncontrollably, and I contemplate bizarre things. Like I daydreamt you and I had talked on the phone and you were telling me about a magazine or something you were reading, but there were certain pages no one was able to see. And I told you it was okay, that no matter what it seemed like at the time it might upset you, it would all make sense one day. That we just needed to trust each other. And then we both laughed , 'cause how would you have ever gotten my phone number for me to tell you what I just ended up typing anyway.