Today when I was having a shower, there was light coming through the wall over the tile and huge banging noises because Jim was ripping off the wall on the other side. A distinct feeling of impermanence, I'd say. The bathroom is about to be demolished. The basement bathroom will be my new bathroom until this one is finished. The basement bathroom is, um, scary. There is an interior door that opens into HELL where the sump pump lives, dirt and wires and the abyss. I have no idea how long I will be using this alternative bathroom. It's possible that I will go down there one day and and never be seen again.
In the meantime, I made a almond flour pear tart with hard pears that, of course, didn't get softer in the oven. So I pulled them off the tart and now I'm poaching them. My mother did not teach me to cook. I think she hated cooking. She cooked a million meals for seven people and she grew to hate it.
Tomorrow Holly and I go to our old standby Tiger Mountain but we're leaving early so we can finish a trail I found last year. It got dark before I got to the top and I want to get there this time. With homemade peanut butter cookies.
My dreams have been full of inappropriate sexual activities. With young men. Not teenagers, but definitely too young for me. By about 40 years.
Those parts of the brain never age, apparently.