Day 75, October 5, 2016 @1:14 pm

Lunch is over.  The dishes not quite put away.  I always feel overcome after lunch, unable to think or do anything.  So I come here to my space with my cup of tea to muse and tap on the keyboard.  I feel comforted and not so melancholy, surrounded by light from windows.

Please don’t get me wrong.  I am not unhappy or sad.  I am not in any dire straits. I am a muse.  I am by nature whimsical, sometimes melancholic.  I sigh, heave my chest, sip and tap.  That is how I am.  I poke along at a snail’s pace.  By chance I am reading a book about Patricia Highsmith who raises snails.  She takes them in her purse with some lettuce to events. The book, The Crime Writer, is a novel.  But Highsmith and snippets about her and her life are real.

Highsmith loved cats, and she bred about three hundred snails in her garden at home in Suffolk, England.^[17] Highsmith once attended a London cocktail party with a “gigantic handbag” that “contained a head of lettuce and a hundred snails” which she said were her “companions for the evening”.^{[17]   – from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patricia_Highsmith}

I hope I’m not like Highsmith, though I have been called eccentric.  But I am meandering, straying.  Blame it on the weather.  Blame it on the snow.  It is only October the 5th.  It is snowing and still snowing.  I am prepared if not quite ready for it.  I am not fighting it.  It is a good day to sip tea, have a cookie or two, muse, read about snails……

What are you doing today?  Is it snowing where you are?