I'm very cozily sitting here with my cup of coffee after having been mightily entertained by Tyke and his tennis ball, which I had to roll across the living room numerous times. Of course, we couldn't make too much noise for fear of waking up the neighbors, but we had a good time anyway as silently as we could. I didn't bounce the ball off the furniture too much.
Yesterday evening I took the big African walking stick and swept it under the sofa and all sorts of things reappeared that Tyke could play with and he's had a good time ever since. I had not realized that so much had disappeared under the sofa. He found a good rawhide bone to chew on too, so he's intermittently been busy with that. I'll be regularly sweeping under the sofa with that big African walking stick now.
Yesterday was a nice enough day and overall I felt content enough for no reason in particular except for the fact that I was alive and well. Sometimes you just count a blessing as simple as that, especially if you've just watched the daytime news and seen the calamities on it. It does make you feel very safe and privileged and you're thankful for the country you live in. Still.
I always like Fridays, because that's when my hardest working domestic help gets here, who takes special pride in really getting the apartment spotless and I'm always so grateful to her for doing that. She always looks at me with a great deal of satisfaction when she's done and it is a wonderful start to the weekend for me. I completely relax in the afternoons, knowing that everything is in order and that all I have to do is pick up well after myself.
I dress with care every day, as if I'm going to meet someone important, and I do it purely for myself so that I will feel good. I decorate myself with something extra if I'm in the mood. A necklace or a scarf. Usually I'm in the mood. I check myself in two mirrors. The bathroom mirror and the long mirror of the closet door. Both of them show me in kindly light and hide my imperfections and that is fine with me. I don't need to be closely scrutinized by myself. I pretend the world sees me in the same way.
My sister gave me two English language books. They're both literature and a little hard to get through, she found. That means they're going to be a challenge and I like challenges. I like it when I have to pay attention to a novel and really have to make an effort. When I'm not just reading for relaxation, but also to use my head and figure out harder to understand concepts. The books are "A Woman of Salt" by Mary Potter Engel and "Unconfessed"by Yvette Christiansë.
At the rate I'm amassing books, I'm not going to run out of anything to read for a while. I've still got about 40 unread novels. I'll read them in due time if I don't get side tracked by something else. I'm really into thrillers right now and there is the lure of another Inspector Linley. I'm perfectly willing to be completely surprised by their outcomes. I read them purely for pleasure and I don't necessarily have to know ahead of time who the perpetrator is, although it's nice to speculate.
I'm going to eat breakfast and go back to bed for awhile. I just stood by the back door and I'm cold now. I'm looking forward to getting under the duvet where it is nice and warm. It's the best way to start a Saturday.
Have a good day.