We’re living like savages around here. K drank the last of the milk last night. I just used the last bit of half and half in my coffee. By some miracle there were English muffins for breakfast, but I had to use a cake fork to split one, and a bent cheese knife to butter it. (There is butter.) There are roses in the garden that no one is paying any attention to, and the grass in now almost knee high.

I washed the dishes in the sink and started the dishwasher. With the prospect of a garden show, walking and a family birthday (my brother’s), I don’t see how things will improve over the weekend, but I think I’ll leave work a bit early tonight and try to do something. It feels like spring is here to stay, so I need to put sweaters away and find t-shirts, too.

*I can’t read or hear that word without hearing in my head the song from Pocahontas.


3 thoughts on “Savages*

  1. Is it fun to be able to live like savages, or do you feel like you should be taking more care of yourself, now that the young uns are out of the house?

  2. It’s a little bit of both, actually — it’s lovely to not feel responsible for making a reasonable dinner every night, or that I need to get home. Life feels more spontaneous. However, too many nights of eating things like broccoli and toast leave one feeling a bit . . . hungry.

  3. Well, all I know is that your neighborhood looks totally cute. Except that the pickup truck looks kind of out of place. Send it to MY neighborhood, where it would fit right in.

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