Saturday, January 31, 2004

Grey Sweater

It is back-breakingly cold today. The cold weighs down my shoulders, caving into the small of my back. Inside, the wind blows through airconditioner like an open window. I cover it with saran-wrap, like a left-over pork chop.

I have been alone for three days. Brian is off in a Psych conference in sunny Austin, Texas. In his absence, dust settles, accumulates, as if I don't produce enough impetus to stir the air. Dust bunnies reproduce in the corner. Pretty soon, I'll have enough to knit a hairy, grey sweater. At night, I pull the comforter over my head to ward off the winter chill, my breath humid under the covers. There is only one mound on the bed, a bra with one breast.

Judge Judy dispenses tough justice on TV. I wish she would dispense some lunch instead. I go hungry.

Tomorrow, warmer, the weatherman predicts. Brian will be home.