It's stormed here every night for the last week or so. Summer storms. I like a storm to get me to sleep. One night, I stood on the porch talking on the phone and watched a storm come in from the south. There was lightning first. It was the sort of lightning that makes night light up like day for less than a second. Then thunder. Then rain. Before the rain, I walked around my car and counted the skinny cockroaches on the roof. There were three. I told Josh about it when I went inside. I forgot he would be disgusted.
Our new landlords tend the yard. There's a growth of poison ivy on the back stairs. It's climbing up on the porch floor. I guess the landlords don't know it's poison ivy. It's the red kind. It'll only keep growing in weather like this. When it's at our door, I might say something.
Those two stories I submitted a hundred years ago are still floating down a lazy river somewhere. I imagine they'll come to shore and be bitten by a nest of water snakes any day now. I've been imagining that for a little while. I watch from a tree and worry about my own safety because certain snakes climb trees to hunt birds. I wouldn't want to interrupt that in any way. I wouldn't want to be mistaken for a bird with sunglasses. I watch my stories float on down the river away from me.
The book is turning into the ghost story I've always been trying to write. It's to the point where the book is all I think about, not just when I'm writing it or when I'm in the shower, but always. If I've been an awful friend, this is why. If I look at you but don't look at you, it's because I'm picturing words in place of your face. It's gross. Don't bring it up if I see you at the grocery store.
Abbi's been here nearly three weeks doing the things Abbi does. Mostly that's work on her computer and glow at the mention of Oxford. There's been some mail from Oxford. I hold it and pretend it's mine before I give it to Abbi. She reads it and puts it in a cute little mail rack. I wish Josh and I had a mail rack. We have a closet full of mail in plastic grocery bags. This is probably how hoarding starts.
I'm ready for tomatoes. I would hoard tomatoes, no problem. I would hoard them in my mouth, because God, tomatoes in the summer taste like they're full of the juicy Sun. Josh will be disgusted by this too. He hates raw tomatoes.
I know. I know.
I like xTx a lot.
Our new landlords tend the yard. There's a growth of poison ivy on the back stairs. It's climbing up on the porch floor. I guess the landlords don't know it's poison ivy. It's the red kind. It'll only keep growing in weather like this. When it's at our door, I might say something.
Those two stories I submitted a hundred years ago are still floating down a lazy river somewhere. I imagine they'll come to shore and be bitten by a nest of water snakes any day now. I've been imagining that for a little while. I watch from a tree and worry about my own safety because certain snakes climb trees to hunt birds. I wouldn't want to interrupt that in any way. I wouldn't want to be mistaken for a bird with sunglasses. I watch my stories float on down the river away from me.
The book is turning into the ghost story I've always been trying to write. It's to the point where the book is all I think about, not just when I'm writing it or when I'm in the shower, but always. If I've been an awful friend, this is why. If I look at you but don't look at you, it's because I'm picturing words in place of your face. It's gross. Don't bring it up if I see you at the grocery store.
Abbi's been here nearly three weeks doing the things Abbi does. Mostly that's work on her computer and glow at the mention of Oxford. There's been some mail from Oxford. I hold it and pretend it's mine before I give it to Abbi. She reads it and puts it in a cute little mail rack. I wish Josh and I had a mail rack. We have a closet full of mail in plastic grocery bags. This is probably how hoarding starts.
I'm ready for tomatoes. I would hoard tomatoes, no problem. I would hoard them in my mouth, because God, tomatoes in the summer taste like they're full of the juicy Sun. Josh will be disgusted by this too. He hates raw tomatoes.
I know. I know.
I like xTx a lot.