Friday, March 4, 2011

Dearest, up in the aerie at wine o'clock, feeling much more on top of things after a bout of spring cleaning today. The aerie is spic and span, and a rather grotty rug that I never liked is gone, replaced with a cheerful woven cotton one that I no longer use in the kitchen. It was a good occasion to move the desk and computer from the wall and get to baseboards and dirty walls that I never otherwise get to clean. So things are feeling neat and tidy, freshly laundered and freshened up, and I even cleaned the baths, scrubbed the kitchen sink and stove and wiped the kitchen floor. Phew! This was all at the expense of a workout, walk, and any reading - but a dusted house is a nice thing. I tend to let things go too long, until I can't stand it anymore. This is a dusty house, though, maybe due to its age, also it seems more so in winter, perhaps from the heat coming up from the baseboard heaters (but why would that create dust? maybe dust-conveying convections form) and most certainly from the bags of wood pellets that D rips open and dumps into the stove - after a few days there's always a fine layer of dust in the solarium.

Ah, enough about dust and dusting. Though if you wanted to pop over for an impromptu visit this weekend - then perfect, since the house is clean. Oh I wish - wouldn't that be nice?

It's a quiet peaceful hour here. I'm feeling quite content. Ah, at least the burden of housecleaning isn't hanging over me, as it often, I guess without my even realizing it, does.

Oh sweetheart, now that I've sat down I feel myself fading fast. I was on the move all day long, and no nap. But I would love to be with you. What would we do? I think it would be a nice evening to light a wood fire and, heck, I don't feel like cooking, maybe some Chinese takeout for dinner, egg rolls and dumplings and fried rice and some chicken vegetable dish, and maybe a hot shrimp something or other. Yet I can't picture this transpiring in my living room, no, it would have to be elsewhere, dearest Dmitri, in our garret at the S.B. Hotel, where someone else - a chambermaid, not me, would have knocked herself out cleaning the place. And so I'd have loads of energy, darling, and I'd light a fire, and turn the lights down low, and put soft music on the stereo, and I think I would have cooked, perhaps a really lovely beef bourguignon to fortify you on such a cold night. Or maybe I'll be like the Governor's girlfriend, Sandra Lee (is that her name?) and cheat - Dinty Moore from a can doctored with boil-in-bag mushrooms and "cooking wine" - oh perish that thought - such a travesty would never happen with me!

I can't wait to hear about your fantasies, or better yet - to live them. Darling, I will go now, the light is fading along with me, thinking of you truly, madly, deeply. Hope you're having a lovely evening wherever you are, my dear. Many kisses, there, and there. XOXO

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