Sitting in my armchair with the window behind me cracked open. Mmm. Smell that grass.
A bird singing, loud and clear, over and over: “Do-Ti-Sol—” (“Sol” with a definite vibrato, not unlike the kind that 5-year-old girls affect after watching a PBS operatic special.)
Finding the find-of-finds: Matelasse in the right pattern and right color! Baby bedding, coming right up!
Of course, with the matelasse nailed down, the hunt for brown grosgrain was on — and lo and behold! Tell me I won’t spend hours perusing! Add to my list of heavenly occupations, “sitting at her sewing maching all day (a sewing machine that always does what it should), with hundreds of bolts and spools at her disposal, creating bags and skirts and belts and linens for an entire heavenly kingdom.”
This, of course, will be added to my already full schedule of full-time gardener, cook, pianist, art-aficionado, home architect, and lay-in-the-grass-doing-nothing hippie-type. (As well as, of course, singing in the choir or playing harp or whatever it is that we’re all supposed to be doing all the time.)
Anyway. Off to actually start my day. Real life: I still have to practice piano, un-jam my bobbin, vacuum my floor, and find clothes that fit my belly. Well, I guess I can handle such hardships!