Dearest love, how are you? I hope you've had a wonderful day. I've been thinking of you, as always. I'm very tired right now, it's a good hour-and-a-half later than when I usually sit down to write (usually around 6 in summer). I spent the day knocking myself out doing a lot of cooking & cleaning in advance of going away tomorrow afternoon. I never mind the cooking, it's fun, good to eat well, and all that. But I do hate major housecleaning - and I've noticed that my interior monologue as I scrub and scour turns dark & angry. The shift feels involuntary, not seeming to do directly with the chores themselves - whose physical exercise, on another level, I don't entirely mind. Strange. I've noticed it before, mentioned it even, the last time I so thoroughly applied myself to cleaning a couple of weeks ago. What kept my mood on an even keel today - leverage I used to right myself - was the prospect of the upcoming week's stay in Brooklyn, the idea of leaving the house in good order, not only towards a gratifying satisfaction of simple hometending sense (i.e., gospodarstwo), but also as re-entry insurance - that it won't be such a terrible overdue-to-be-cleaned mess when I get back either. If there are tasks that I wish I could delegate, hire someone else to do, biweekly housecleaning would be one; yardwork, every bit of it, except for daily watering, the other. The rest I could manage. Maybe I should move back to Brooklyn. But I'd miss the mountains.
I did manage a workout and a walk, through all that - which feels like an accomplishment, keeping to that regimen. I did my workout to C.Rose, which comes on here at 1 - and guess what? It wasn't my strenuous ab routine around 1:54 that made the whole upstairs shudder and roll and the bookcase slightly sway - I was like - what? Why is the house moving? Is it going to collapse? What's happening? All was silent outside - there hadn't been an explosion.
Within an hour I learned what I had already surmised, having experienced several in my fairly distant past - that it was an earthquake. (And I read too, concurrently, that a rare one had taken place in the last day in Colorado.) I am quite chastened and in awe of the power of earthquakes, and the idea of scale again. It was a magnitude 5.8 (which number doesn't mean very much to me, intuitively - it seems respectably strong - well, okay, I should rethink the adjective 'respectably' - formidably? significantly?), and then I learned that the epicenter was near Richmond, Virginia - and whoa, that's what gets me - that geographical point, from my perspective, is a very long way away from me, and yet here I was - jarred, momentarily, as everyone else was, most likely, all up and down the Eastern Seaboard. I googled - I'm about 450 miles away from Richmond, Va. That's pretty astonishing, that I felt as much of a sensation as I did in this house, in which I dwell to such an extent 24/7, 365, for over 6 years now, that I'm like Captain Ahab (maybe?!) - I know my Pequod - I have never felt her move quite like that! Not in the strongest winds, and we get some fierce mistrals (as I think of them), very loud, forceful winds that howl and slam through here like out-of-control trains - and the Pequod, in the middle of the night as I lie under the covers listening to such a windstorm, stands firm and barely shudders.
My dearest, I am so tired and in a quiet mood, not really in the mood to write, that I wish I could just hang out with you, lie down with you and snuggle. If the earth moves, you and I might not even notice -
come here, darling, tell me about your day
hope all's well