Day 1 of my fantastic voyage

Soundtrack of the day
Even though your skies are blue
You're drying up my bed
How can I get any rest now?
Currently temperature: blindingly bright but the outlook is gentle




















I called today Day 1 because, up until now, although I’ve been free from the 9 to 5 for over a week, it is the first non-packing, non-moving, non-sayingoodbye, non-traveling day, which means it’s time to get to work.

When I laid down to rest last night, I had the best of intentions for starting my day with yoga, doing some laundry and beginning some writing exercises. Instead, I woke up late, slowly drank my coffee, put in a load of laundry and watched the Today show. I hadn’t yet found a yoga studio and when I finally found one within walking distance the class times didn’t work out. I’d go for a run but the UV index is probably very dangerous right now. The sunshine and steady tide flowing by is keeping me strapped to this deck. That walk along the beach will have to wait until the sun is a bit lower and the breeze is a bit stronger.

As I transferred my first load of laundry to the dryer, I heard footsteps upstairs. I thought I was alone, TV blasting, windows all opened, a song in my heart. Then I realized that it was the giant Swede who spent the night with Vicki’s roommate. They did have a lot of fun last night. I heard them from across the hall, and under my covers. Pardon my juvenile tendencies but it was hilarious and I quietly giggled. Chatting on AIM with Eugene last night didn’t help, because he only managed to aggravate the situation by making me want to laugh out loud and roll on the floor. But they beat me to it.

He's in the shower now. After joining me for coffee and rollerblading to his place, he realized his roommate (or rather, his couch surfing host) was not home to let him in. What a life, and now he’s back. We had lunch together: Thor with his Subway sandwich; me with my leftovers from last night’s BBQ.

I wonder how long he’ll be here. I don’t mind, he’s good company. But I don’t think I’m allowed to leave him here alone. And how am I supposed to choreograph my interpretive dance to Beyonce’s Halo?

I’m sure he’ll leave eventually. Until then I’ll finish my laundry, maybe work on my tan, and kick it with the cats on the deck.

More later.