8:52 p.m. after last week's horror, i feel so fragile. Last night i locked myself in a stall in a bathroom and sobbed, doubled over, quietly, efficiently, then washed my face and rejoined the crowd at the bar. we are going to move. i am angry about this: i adore my house, my neighborhood, my view of the mississippi, the sunsets, the train, our hammock, the yard, the music nearby, the old floors, the high ceilings, the green vine curling up the door, the atmosphere. every time i come home, i marvel that i get to live there. i cannot imagine feeling this way about another house, but we have to go. now we're tracking Gu*stav. if it isn't one thing, it's another. |
