Sunday, November 16, 2008

Can, May.

Let's open here: We seem to have sold the house. To schoolteachers. Can I say how much easier it might be to leave the bookshelves to people who have books? Can I say how much easier it was to rake the leaves out tonight knowing that it felt like the right thing to be doing? Can I say how many minutes I would have had to sit on the bottom step for saying can instead of may? Can I please be excused? I'm sure you can, Drew. The question is: May you?

We've turned hard cold. We've sold the house. When I moved in here it was the coldest day of the year. Maybe we're aiming into December for that same thing. The sign in the yard says UNDER CONTRACT. We're under contract almost everywhere. I'm back to NYC this week. The abject insanity rolls on.

Looks like we're going to freeze every night this week. Most of the leaves are down out of the Japanese magnolia. I'm about ready to call this winter. Heater's been running all night. Dog curled up on the sofa. Hat weather. My grandfather's rake. These are not sentences. Let's just all go to bed and worry this through in the morning.

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