a place to put things, like a shelf

The sun shines today! Even though I am sitting inside yet another not-amply-windowed box I know the sun is out today. I went to get a coffee during work yesterday's yesterday not because I even wanted the coffee but because I have been craving sunlight. It seems that every day that I have the plan to be outdoors it is grey lately, and maybe that's just bad foresight. We are dogsitting currently, and it's nice to have a companion around, a door greeter, a cuddlebug with a warmer temperature. Apparently she goes on a hike every day that is at least three miles (must have good heart health!) but indoors is the laziest lounger. I can understand. We also tried re-arranging the furniture again last night but I think it was a mistake. One that can be undone but not without more effort, which nullifies the first effort but you still feel it in your back and bones. Another push pull of the couch into yet another slightly different spot and I think it will be working again. Another t...

Dear world, I have been considering the selfish nature of conversation, how vocalizing or writing or whatever it is to another I inevitably stumble upon something of myself, or at least something that came out of myself, that I will hold onto. This way of discussing, particularly effective in the most long form version that comes from writing letters, where there is ample time to think or not think before you speak, and sit with it before it is heard, reminds/explains to/shows me what I've been keeping inside. Does that render this sort of quasi letter to no one an even more self-centered task? Or am I relieved of the burden of am I talking about myself too much when it's not directed at anyone in particular. This act of writing is more about documenting. It is okay to speak into the nothingness that is everything online. I want to share. N and I had a wonderful trip to New York, brief as time always feels there, yet important. It was nice to step out of life and run the water ...