The sunlight is brilliant and warm, but there's no sense of that inside. I am drenched by waves of incoming requests, concentrating and working hard to keep the boat afloat. Outside, the house painters have darkened all the windows with masking paper and plastic film, further dimmed by overspray of dark red trim paint. From in here, it's as if the unnaturally opaque and crepuscular air were lit by a bank of glowing coals. Combined with the intense work and the rising temperatures of a sudden spring, it's feeling a little underworldly in here. I closed my eyes for just a moment to take a deep breath. To my surprise, I heard the sound of wind through aspen trees and the gurgle of a nearby creek. Opening my eyes again, I recognized it's only the swaths of that featherweight plastic, worked loose and teased by the gusting wind, and the toilet down the hall that someone left running. But, for just a moment, I was somewhere else.
Life has me quite busy, so posting and commenting may be slightly erratic for a bit. Bear with me while my focus is temporarily drawn elsewhere.
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