'and then there's morning; each one feels like the first one....'

my head hurts. i have too much to do. tomorrow is monday already. i wish i were somewhere reading a book and drinking something warm under a blanket. i missed my sunday afternoon nap. this paper won't write itself. i miss you.

but

it was almost 70 today and the sun came out. i made delicious lasagna with a friend from work. i'm wearing flip-flops. my dishes are done. i bought red grapefruit. there are a few more hours until bed, so once i finish this paper (just do it!), i can read for awhile. my down comforter is soft and pillowy. there are harmonies and melancholy voices in my ears.

i still miss you.

'when i get back to the city

everything's cluttered and pretty.

i won't regret my return.

i'll just remember the wind and the snow

and the howling so loud

that it alone drowns out the inside of me.'