Funny when I'm drawn here. When I have a good dream, or I'm stuck in my house, apparently.
Thing is, we're in the midst of a key conundrum. It's probably to do with my own aversion to keys -- how can something that important be so small, so lose-able? But it also has to do with our two-month-long effort to find suitable doggie care, a poorly-designed house, and a busy, irregular schedule.
The key worked to get me in, but it doesn't work to lock up. Sound like something from Alice in Wonderland? That's how it's been with our key conundrum. Last week I stayed in and read about Tiger Woods until Alex returned from school with a key and I could go to work.
And tonight, instead of going to capoiera while Alex is at wrestling, I'm stuck inside my house. My silent, messy house.
And what do I do: clean? sleep? cook? All logical choices. But not for me, not tonight. Tonight, I read.
I read Elizabeth Hay's Late Night's on Air. I choose it because my boss lent it to me and I'm scared that I will ruin it with spilled coffee or doggie something. Turns out, it was perfect for this evening. That's because it's February 9th, and just today I was marveling that it is February 9th and I haven't really broken down crying because my father died in February (16th, 2004). And Hay's book is perfect because it is filled with sadness and father moments, yet it's set somewhere I only dream of (Yellowknife). So it has a way of transporting me to a place that is both strange and familiar. And I love that.
Alex is home now, puttering in the kitchen because I asked him for some time to write. And I love that.