Our neighbor is playing his ukulele outside our window again. I'm tempted to pick up the chanter and make some noise, but I'm tired. Today Mike, Gavin and I drove down to UH to pay the goddamn parking ticket, with full intentions of stopping by the Children's Center to check out daycare for Gavin. We did not. After an hour hiking all over campus, we limped back to the car after an unusually bad lunch at the food kiosk. I sat eating my tough pieces of meat (debating whether it was horse or cat meat) and I looked up at the sun-dappled stairs of the Hamilton Library, in whose basements I will live like a troll for the next year and a half.
Safely home, Gavin and I played on the porch with his (clean) kitty litter box filled with water. He tip-toed on the hot cement, and then crammed his body into the box to splash happily while I hovered over him, my shadow shielding him from the sun and my back burning. I'll miss these days. I imagined myself on a bike, Gavin riding behind me in a baby seat, as I cruised toward his day care center to drop him off for my class, then riding on to the library, riding down to the lovely Olympic-sized heated pool for an afternoon swim. Maybe I'll ask for a bike for my birthday, it's been a long time since I've been on one. My mother is returning from the store, with ingredients to make fudge, which she has been wanting for two days. She's suffering from a severe migraine, and we've decided that this sounds like a good pain-killer.
Feeling good.
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