solitude

Here, in my solitude, I have the feeling that I contain too much humanity.
-Ingmar Bergman

I've been kinda out of it. Not in a bad way, really. But my days have been a little too drifty from the POV of my better angels. I've written a few blogposts, taken some walks, and am very slowly reading SN's manuscript. I have occasional Zoom get-togethers and talk on the phone sometimes. I've gotten in touch with some old friends (including my ex-husband) via email. I chat with neighbors outside, on the sidewalk. I've sewn on a few buttons. I do some weeding and pruning and watering. I'm cooking a bit more adventurously than I did before the shutdown but not baking much at all. I buy a weekly loaf/round of bread from Xan, the neighborhood baker.

Not sure where I was going with that -- just then I heard a thwack and when I went back to check, I saw a pigeon fly from the shed roof and bounce off my kitchen window, and heard a second thwack. Not a smart bird! It didn't hit the ground -- it fluttered and flapped up to the top of my fence and sat for a bit. Then Ellie texted to ask if I have garbanzo beans.

And . . . now several days later I remain adrift. Woolly-brained. Unmotivated. Basically fine. The sun is trying to penetrate a cloud blanket. I'm nudging myself to get outside for my end-of-day walk.