In which I share my quiet Saturday afternoon.

I live upstairs in my grandmother’s house in a mustard yellow room that hasn’t been redone since the 70’s. This is the landing:

I keep my chrome citrus juicer and my bowling ball on the landing because I don’t have places for them in my room and I use them frequently enough that putting them in the attic is a pain in the arse.

I received the juicer as a wedding gift. I love it so much that I made a point of getting it from my ex-husband’s house and hauling it three thousand miles to the left coast. The bowling ball is reactive but I have it drilled as a straight ball and therefore haven’t been able break 120 with it in five years of not really trying. The poster picture is my uncle as a child; from the wall above the banister hangs a bundle of club cards from Vegas casinos.

I bought live basil from the store; it cost four dollars for three rooted basil plants. It’s been on the window sill now for four days and I think I’m considering potting it so it will last longer there on the sill above the sink, because it’s such a dear thing, a living herb plant.

I hate doing dishes but if I have to do them, this is the kitchen to do them in. Have you ever seen a bigger, better kitchen window? It’s gotta be six feet wide. Such a view.

My grandmother’s house is way cool.

I finally got a load of laundry in, after stating my intention to do so last Tuesday. Few things more satisfying than the view of a load of whites, drying on the line in the sun.

Besides also cooking and walking to the store and back and the laundry and the dishes, I read that entire book – five hundred and twenty pages – in one day.