This shot of my bow tie is from earlier in the day, when I'd been out in the chilly morning, before walking the dog in the muggy-warm midday and then doffing the sweater, changing into shorts, and tying my hair back. So now the tie's above a Turner Classic Movies logo on my T-shirt. But it's cooled off again, so the sweater is probably coming back. These are those days, in that time of year, and the temperature variety feels pretty glorious sometimes, on the lingering heels of The Winter that Didn't Want to Go Away.
Wanna get fluids into the cat tonight. I could use a weekend in the middle of the week this week, but, y'know, it doesn't work that way. Long weekend coming, howe'er. And I just arranged for a brunch as part of that.
So much people stuff to process. Tired. A little confused. Or maybe a little haunted is more like it.
Had a thought last night, watching a PBS show about poetry. Yeah, there's a poetry show on PBS, and basically the deal is a close reading of one poem per show. This show was about Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays", and one of the close readers (and the out-loud reader of the poem at the beginning of the show) is Joe Biden, sorta underscoring how different things are now. Anyhow one point made about the poem is that it's a sonnet and sonnets are usually about romantic love but this one's about a different kind of love. And that made me think maybe I'd try writing some love sonnets to myself. Whatcha think about that? I think it might could be good.