Record collections are fun:)
Slow morning. My legs and back ache from driving all day yesterday, groggy from waking up late spending too long wrapped cocoon-like in my blanket. I’m oddly glad for the slowness; the way the sun looks coming through the window in pale gold pillars, and the way it leaves angular shapes of light on the wooden floor for the cats to stretch out in like little sun worshipers, relishing the warmth. The slow crackle of the record player underneath the music that it fills the house up with. Full to the brim with sun and sound. The high ceilings really carry the sound, I never noticed before.
They won't see us waving from such great heights,
"Come down now," They'll say
but everything looks perfect from far away,
"Come down now," but we'll stay...