I love Tuesdays because it's one of my days off. I can get up and do my Wii Fit, have breakfast on the patio, and then play in the garden or talk to Durwood or do nothing. Whatever I want. Ah, luxury.
July 28--Samuel van Hoogstraten, The Slippers. Everyone left their doors open on those hot summer afternoons. No matter how many windows were open or how you drew sheer fabric to block the sun's rays, it was still like an oven. All of the tenants learned that an open door did not mean "come on in." They still maintained their distance, at least on the surface. No one could keep their gaze from straying across thresholds to gather up what they could. Avid curiosity was hard to contain when confronted with those open portals. Samuel had heard sounds from the rooms across the hall but had never seen the resident. He didn't know if the person who owned those slippers always at the door was male or female, and the narrow view of the room gave no hints. A ring of keys left in the lock, a chair, a draped table holding a book and candlestick, those things could belong to either sex. His curiosity was interrupting his work. Soon he would find out, soon he would cross the hall and step over those slippers.
Not what I expected to write, but acceptable.
--Barbara
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