This weekend was split between sleeping in and not. There were trips to grocery stores and the farmers market and libraries. Cat food and Girl Scout cookies were bought and videos, the Megan Follows version of Anne of Green Gables and A Man Called Ove, were procured. I chatted on Twitter, considered recipes for pie, watched a rather touching episode of Elementary, and knit on a sock.
I caught buses. I missed buses. I took a bus that didn’t go where I thought it would, but that instead introduced me to a new grocery shop and a rather purple mural. I rode a bike. I admired greatly the full moon rising in the east after watching the sun set in the west only an hour earlier.
I saw cherry blossoms and dandelions and some azalea bushes that are going to be very sad tomorrow when the snow comes in and my first violet of the season. I cuddled cats — all of them my own. I talked to my parents and to Rudi, who’s away in Vermont.
I read from several books, but finished none. I felt well enough to eat the chili Rudi had made for me back on Tuesday, took myself out for a late lunch of vegetable tacos, tried a Turkish bakery, and drank a London Fog in sunny D.C., soaking up the waning rays on the first day of later light.