It is the kind of morning where I take you back to bed well before 10 am. The sound of someone's leaf blower is incessant - a nagging, continual blaring. I feel something akin to rage welling up beneath my shoulder blades (of all places).
Downstairs, I hope scrambled eggs will accomplish what a double cappucino has not.
It is still grey here on the coast and I am glad of it. We are to meet friends at the beach later. It will be impossibly bright by then.
is it too late to suggest heeding Baz Lurhman's advice.
Posted by: citrus | May 13, 2009 at 03:42 PM