Housesitting again these last few days. The house with the cat that looks like a chubby rabbit and hops around and waggles that stump of a tail in delight. Funny thing. You know how people say that when they get the house to themselves they're gunna take great delight in walking around in their knickers? Well housesitting to me involves walking around in all the clothes I have on all at once - think indoor scarf wearing and even the hood up on my fleece (this house is very cold - something about being on the wrong side of them there tracks, like the cheaper real estate on this side of town didn't come with very nice weather options). It also invoves the occasional bout of loungeroom dancing to Sly and the Family Stone, shower singing loudly, napping on the couch in between the early evening and the late evening, and zany cooking involving lots of things that need soaking and fix nitrogen to soils. And right now it might involve a little bit of trash crime fiction reading in the bath with a cup of tea. Aaaah.


Sometimes you have to laugh; people are all silly. All of us. These dances we do that we call living our life. Dancing around and around; to duck, to weave, the tempt, to tease, to impress, to feel good. Sometimes we catch another's hand and we dance together, in synch, coordinated, spinning around, getting dizzy, giddy; and then we let go and off into new orbits we go....
- Thoughts from a correspondant in the north