Harmony

The sky is the color of iced slate and the day is mild. The sun hasn't yet managed to pierce the clouds. The sky looks like autumn above London. Misty Soho afternoons in Chinatown. White polyester tablecloth beneath sesame prawn toast and scalding metal pots of tea.

There is apple pie oatmeal in the slow cooker and a sleeping babe on the couch. The day will be full, but there are no appointments. I won't have to keep anyone else's time, and I'm grateful for that.

Spring cleaning has already begun here, and I have donated half of my closet and arranged my boots on the shelf in the closet in a gradient line from tallest to shortest. All my hangers match. It's clean and allows me to breathe easier.

Right now is tangelo water and bed-making before funneling energy into the screenplay. Cuban jazz plays oh so softly in the background. Harmony achieved.