Early morning writing has not been happening. I don't have the flu, but I've been fighting off a sore throat and I've been extra tired lately. I almost got up to write this morning, but given how tired I'm feeling now, I'm glad I didn't.
Today we've took everything out of our bedroom for a deep cleaning. I'm always surprised by how much dust collects underneath our bed and the chest of drawers. Between the bookshelves in the room and our closet, I was reminded of when I used to live at Arcosanti in a eight by eight by eight cube. It looked a little like the scene of a hyper-spacial accident between a laundry truck and a book mobile.
The day has been foggy and grey. As I was walking outside, I had a new appreciation for my glasses. A hill rising a few blocks away faded out as it rose up into the underside of a cloud. Pine trees nearer were darker and sharper than ones a little farther up and away. The scene was made for practicing watercolor washes to indicate distance.
On the down side, when I was in a museum for the first time with my glasses, I became very aware that they have a narrow portal centered in my field of vision where objects have crisp outlines and that objects in my peripheral vision lean toward this portal of clarity. Normally I don't notice it, but in a gallery of picture frames the artwork ripples around whatever I'm pointing my nose at.
I'll have to hoard my contact lenses for when we go to art galleries.