Thursday, March 8, 2012

Back to the Drear

Naturally it was gorgeous and sunny yesterday when I was stuck at work. Today it's back to the grays and at least 10 degrees cooler with a 20 degrees cooler wind chill, (see? no lack of complaint fodder here) plus I get to go to work today anyway. It's knitting guild night so I need to zip downstairs to pick out my favorite knitting book to take along. I called the woman who said she wanted to rent 1508 and left a message saying that I wanted to get a deposit to keep holding it and she needed to call back by 6 PM yesterday. She didn't call, so the ad went back on Craigslist last night after supper. I can't believe it. We were both so excited to have a renter so quickly and now I've bought the car and we don't have a renter after all. She said she wanted the place, don't you think she could have called to say she'd changed her mind? What is it with people these days? No one has manners anymore. How hard would it have been to call and say, "sorry, I found someplace different/reconciled with my husband/can't afford it after all?" Some people's kids. Now we're back to square one and the place will be available April 1. Need a place to live? Know anyone who does? The only drawback is that we live next door but we'd try to mind our own business. Really we would. Waahhhh. On a happier note, the Wii Fit tray-thingy has told me every day so far this week that my weight's ooching down every so slightly. That's good. Maybe my new jeans will be a little less tight soon (I bought 'em a teensy bit too tight to keep me on the losing side of the scale). Moving on.

March 7--Gustave Courbet, The Calm Sea. Waves caressed the shore like a lover's touch as Ceily walked along. The quiet hiss of water on sand soothed her like a mother calms her child. Ceily didn't care that the hem of her white cotton dress was wet, it felt like all her cares were being washed away in the cool sea. At the far end of the bay a fisherman beached his skiff, dragging the anchor above the high tide line. He lifted a heavy bucket out of his boat and turned to carry his catch up over the dunes to the village. She wondered what it would be like to live there. To eat fish caught that very day, to know who raised the chickens, who planted the tomatoes, whose trees grew lemons, and where to get the fresh white cheese wrapped in grape leaves. She wondered if she could find an excuse to build a life in this place of simple pleasures.

I suspect that she's in for a rude awakening if she does move to the place of simple pleasures. Gossip is usually the engine that runs small towns and someone from the city isn't insulated from that kind of scrutiny. Time to get a move on.

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