Cactus is snoring on the couch, but it sounds like she is just ruminating on something, you know, sort of murmuring to herself. I wonder what she dreams of. Probably life without Adventure Cat (who pounces on her head given any opportunity).
The tape player in the Civic has started working again, inexplicably, and the brakes in there are way, way better then the ones on my bike. Mum's been playing a tape that she made of songs from mix-tapes that I made for her years ago. "BEST OF MEREDITH" "BEST OF MEREDITH 2" (then you know which side you're on).
I forgot about some of these songs, there's a couple that I don't even know who they're by. I still know all the words, though. Funny how that works.
I sing along so much more here.
There aren't very many people I'm feeling like calling. I don't know if it's just my mood or if I'm getting more and more detached. This week is going to feel too short, I'm steeling myself for that, I guess.
You know, I wasn't homesick until the plane landed. I hadn't been desperate to get back here (like I have been, frequently, in the past) But then it sort of hit me. The browns and greens, the intense flatness, the spaces between all the tiny houses and the wide, wide roads. I just love it here.
I slept for twelve hours last night, the room I'm in is a cave, no light gets in.
Needed that/wasted the day.
Driving home tonight, I felt strong and sure and solid behind the wheel, in control and lonely.
I wanted old habits. Wished I could show up at that window I used to. Wished there were houses I wanted to pass by, just to see if the lights were still on.
Not to point out the obvious, but everything has changed here. Everything is done, gotten over, moved on from.
I run off nostalgia, still.
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