The sounds of the monthly “deep” cleaning at my house drove me away this morning. The woman we engage to help in this monthly task brings loud vacuum equipment and noisy brooms. Well, the vacuum is loud and disruptive and I feel like I’m in the way, no matter where she is in the house. So I choose to leave. This morning, I am sitting at Melinda’s Coffee Corner (I think that’s the official name), drinking an iced coffee and attempting to avoid being blinded by the sun. I’m sitting at the chest-high counter in the front of the place where windows allow ample sunlight from the early morning sun in the east. I long for blinds or shades or large piece of plywood to block the light. I could move, but I’ve set up my computer and my coffee and my cell phone on the counter, so moving would be an enormously taxing undertaking. It’s far easier to sit here and complain that the building was built at the wrong angle to avoid blinding sunlight from streaming through the windows.
As I sit here, I overhear snippets of conversation between two women who are talking about the state of the country. I can’t hear enough to know what they think of it. I’m assuming that, if they’re bright, they think the country is going to hell in a hand basket. I think I hear one of them talking about the French resistance during World War II; this is a good sign.
My wife just texted me, asking me to pick up a green tomato and a couple of peaches if I opt to drive up the road to Sarah’s, a little fruit and veggie stand we’ve visited only once. I think I shall. I’m up for some adventure!