Cream in my coffee, milk in my cereal.
Finally removing all the dishes from the sink, like an excavation of the last three days -- stuck on dried grains of rice, waterlogged bits of vegetable, coffee grounds and eggshells.
Washing everything. The sheets, jeans, underwear, washing even the washcloths.
Hugging muscle to bone, skin to muscle, breathing in and out through my nose, holding here, breathing into the space, getting long through the spine.
Sitting still while someone else meticulously grooms my hands -- cut, file, remove cuticles, perfectly polish.
Letting it all wash over me, because there's nothing else to do.
Returning text messages, emails, finally attending to that stack of bills in the corner.
Red wine, good friends.
Planning my trip.
Planning Johnny's visit.
Figuring out how to get a Russian visa.
Appreciating it all.