How time and temperature fool me into a place where I would like to be... (nothing bad, just a slow re-entry into the pages here.) Woke up in the very quiet and cold middle of the night. The room temperature went down to a sleepy 60F (15C). This is the beauty of those old houses, the steam heat just has its own personality. So quiet now. Had some trouble going back to sleep until I realized that it was not the middle of the night anymore, rather the end of it, it was the beginning of the day actually, maybe even the end of the very beginning. I am now even glad that I am not going to Washington today, as I would have now missed my flight. Great. It does feel like the middle of the night. It does feel like the middle of the night. It is the middle of the night somewhere, just about now, actually right now. Now. Four chairs arrived yesterday, the boxes together much larger than me, they somehow managed to enter the building. (This is the place where I should mention that my neighbors are rockstars.) They (the chairs) traveled all the way from Kentucky, the four chairs, three black ones and one red. (Yes, I had plans to prepare for judgement day.) They brought so much packaging material with them (the chairs), bags warning me of suffocation, (deep inside of them, with tiny little type). They are no toys. Oh, I wish they were toys. Maybe they are toys... would we like to play with our lives? The giant boxes look like a portable "cozy studio" in manhattan. Two of the four chairs arrived broken. I will now have to go through the procedure of sending a gigantic box (half a cozy studio) to Kentucky. If things develop according to my current sampling, the next package will contain only one broken chair, which I will then send back again, then the one that I will get back will be half broken, which will probably not be bad enough to really matter. It maybe already does not matter already... the broken chairs are black. The red one is a wicked little guy... the hot seat... I wish I could bake muffins, I guess, or know how to bake muffins, or maybe be next, very close to someone who knows how to bake muffins. Maybe a lazy cat with a leonardo smile would be involved as well, one that loves to bake itself on the pilot lights of a gas stove. Maybe there would be some general sweetness in the air. Lots of it. Soy milk maybe. Poppy seeds. Chocolate chips. (dare we to think of real butter?) Yes, I think I would really love that. Instead I am in the business of being afraid of juggling with chain-saws. Some are broken, some have cords attached, some have been smeared all over with the sap of some not very friendly trees. I know I can work out a way to juggle smoothly and beautifully. It is just that I am balancing on a very thin beach ball and that ever so often a tomato is thrown at me, or was it a potato? Fruit? A bucket of water? (Does water spontaneously foam? I am not sure anymore.) Oh, and and I forgot to mention: most of the juggling happens with written and with voice "commands". Things could be much worse, of course. Always. I will not go to the bathroom from 7:30 through 9:30, just out of solidarity with my friends who are going to Washington DC this morning. One is not allowed to get out of the seat on the planes going to the capital... one needs to do whatever has to get done without getting up. Only the good old stewardesses are allowed to walk around, giving away free coffee and tea and some other exciting things... It is getting warmer in the room. I should be out and almost on my way now. It is so beautifully quiet here. It is so soft and warm and quiet under these covers. It is so peaceful... Okay, it is time to see how the rice turned out. It has been waiting done for about an hour already... I would love to have a not so sweet poppy lemon muffin right now... Maybe tonight? Maybe tomorrow... hopefully before I turn even older... boy, this will be so soon... What are they going to attempt to do to me then? Maybe I should just learn how to bake muffins... or maybe just get back to drawing again, at all cost, urgently, now... : )