Yesterday I finished what I had set out to do, nothing. I consolidated trash into a single bag for a future dump run and considered myself well accomplished. The house is clean so today my attentions can be elsewhere. I will water plants and browse through cookbooks for spectacular fall recipes.

When I was in grammar school, my Desk top lifted so I able to keep all my stuff neat. Pencils, a ruler, crayons, and workbooks, each had a certain spot inside my desk. The biggest book inside my desk was a reader filled with stories, questions about each story and possible essays. Arithmetic was mostly work sheets and board work. We had geography and history books. We had art and music, no books. For music we sang while a classmate played the keyboard. The nun gave us the starting note from her pitch pipe, and we sang while she directed us. I have no idea what she was doing. I don’t think she did either though she was good with the pitch pipe. Art was mostly whatever though I do remember making a puppet out of paper mâché, giving it horns and painting it red like the devil. It was one of the best things I ever made.

I have a small, old school desk in the kitchen. On the top is where the microwave sits, and the underneath, usually for books and such, has the holiday kitchen towels. The chair holds the day to day towels. The top of the microwave holds my African cookbook collection. I bought the desk and chair at a church fair many years ago. It was a lucky find.

Today is sunny and cloudy and sunny again. The air has a chill even though it is 61˚, the high for the day. Tonight will get down to the 40’s. Both my doors are open to the sun. Henry loves watching out the front. I have no idea what holds his attention. My street is a quiet one, but I do know when the mailman comes.