The Bridge

M and I spent a perfectly lovely day huddled inside watching a Swedish crime series called The Bridge. It was great. Later, we went to A and A’s for dinner and we kept expecting something awful to happen — when A stepped inside to get the burgers to grill, for example, we thought she might be bludgeoned.

But she was not.

It was very hard to escape the mood.

Now I’m outside. I have vacuumed the bedroom, including under the bed. I really ought to put the winter clothing up in the attic and the summer clothing in the drawers. Yes, I really ought to.

In a minute —

I also think I need some more tall flowering plants for summer. A had some pretty yellow lilies. Also, I need to build a woodshed. I have an idea now of how to do it. And I want to make the vegetable garden bigger. And I need to weed.

Really, I would like a glass of iced tea.

M has escaped hearing about my ideas for her summer by going to the city with a friend, and N appears to have settled in Maine for a while, at least. She’s got a couple worthy jobs for the summer, and plans to move to the big city for the winter, and then who knows. It’s a start, though. Funny how easy it seemed, in the end.


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