rainy monday

coffee brewing, rain is falling.
I finally managed to get a decent night of sleep last night. Now I am waiting with baited breath to see if I have work today. Would rather night, of course. But oh I have an apartment to furnish and a summer to buy.
this weekend i spent with friends, new friends, and the kitchen. Saturday night I decided to be a shut in. Turning all the lights on, I blasted food network and trudged through my first batch of truffles. Too much orange liqueur, especially for someone who does not drink OR like orange....wink.
Yesterday was breakfast with long lost to work brother bear. I walked over to my new place with rent check in hand. I sat with the girls for a few hours, inspecting my new room, the oven, cupboards and closets. With silly scenarios running through my mind at all times, i chatted with the girls and tried to make them laugh. I would like to feel comfortable somewhere.
They laughed and so did I, and when it did get comfortable, megan and I watched a special on meringues. Just like old times that have not happened yet.

Fell asleep to sirens and foreign tongues. Took his advice on how to sleep happily, and it worked.
Woke up to a hungry cat and still no desire to work, although the pending drops from the sky have little encouragement. If I were Steinbeck I would have gone through many pencils right now.
If I were him I would be drinking a cold breakfast of whiskey and soda; bent down in my work, unable to see my family or friends or problems or sickness around me.
Odd how I wish for a life where I find something so encapsulating that nothing else matters. Isn't a life a waste without distractions and kisses, tumbles and laughing? Friends and babies?

Where am I hiding (read:wishing to hide?) that i cannot find all this?
I wouldn't even be happy in this world. I would get lonely and large. Soggy and hunched.

It's bizarre writing after a hot shower on a cold morning. Waiting for a call. Wrapped in a robe.
Things seem less good. A whole night has passed to change the world. I have a whole day to figure out what changes have been made, and which need to be made.

A thief for words.

" You're either coming or you just left but you're always on the way.
Towards a sunrise or a sunset, a scribble or a sonnet.
They are really just the same."