Today started off with coffee and the usual news. Someone was murdered, someone died on the road, politics raged, compartmentalised tidbits on health, fashion, entertainment, decorated the news like Christmas lights. Of course Al Roker delevered the weather.
That's when it started to downpour.
Autumn is a sleepy kind of lover that makes you brunch, then asks you to return to bed. We rest with the windows open so we can hear the rain, so we can smell the spicy decay of summer. I only pretend to look content, knowing very well all the things that ought to be done.
The floor could be swept, the laundry put away, homework could be studied and checked off my list. I could be cutting green apples instead of baking chocolate chip cookies.
But today, I know nothing of reason or regret. I unzip my wet coat, slip off my squeeking shoes and ask that the sofa be forgiving... seeing as I'm still dirty. Seeing that I'm not a proper woman with my abundant lack of caring.
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