Boy did you scream and howl and cry and squeak and wiggle and run in circles when I got home. And then this morning when you came into the living room and saw me and realized that you had forgotten that I was home, you nearly did the same thing all over again.
IT IS GOOD TO BE LOVED.
Suzie and I talked and laughed and gossiped for hours when I got home yesterday and so between that and just being home, my body hit a wall and I went to bed and slept until noon today. The only thing that got me out of bed was the "I need coffee" headache I was beginning to get.
I sat on the couch with my coffee--just how I like it, not the stuff of hostels made of dirty socks--and it was so quiet and peaceful, all I could hear was the birds arguing outside (arguing like birds not like Ralph and Alice Cramden, "to the moon Alice!"), and the wind chime and a train whistle far off in the distance.
Bellingham is peaceful and calm and green and beautiful and death to a writer who needs to be shocked and startled and edgy, to get the muse going. I hope that now that I have primed the muse, she will stay primed for a while in this peaceful place and get some work done.