Breakfast in dishes I made myself. Brewed black coffee with a healthy splash of Maple Rum Cream from home, hastily grabbed at the airport (never again, too awkward), fresh-made pumpernickel bread with a slathering of cottage cheese and a dash of sea salt and cracked pepper and an endless curtain of rain obscuring the sea, and so they turned on the patio heaters and threw a blanket on my favourite chair outside so that I can eat out here and see what the ocean is up to. It's three and a half degrees and by this time next week we'll have snow on the ground but I don't ever waste a view.
The week was quiet. I didn't get a ton accomplished. I went grocery shopping. I cleaned a little. I worked on finishing the blanket for the dog since one of the new cats has appropriated everything that belongs to him. She wants to love him and so she stole his bed, toys and heart, somehow. He doesn't care about anything but walks, cookies and sleeping beside me.
I finished the fourth and final season of Ozark alone and hate-loved it. I listened to In the Trees by Stalgia on repeat and then a little more. I finished the mending and started to reconstruct a top that I hate the style of into one that I will love, via patchwork. I didn't walk enough but I did use my sleep apnea machine at night and my lungs are huge and tender and my eyes are clear.
It's working and I don't wake up every three minutes any more.
Yay?!