- Babylonian Penitential Psalms, 2000 B.C.E.-ish
I have been waking before sunrise to observe Venus beaming brightly in my window. It's become ritual, parting the curtains, gazing at her with the awe of an ancient Sumerian before making my coffee.
It was my pets' idea -- I've synced my sleep schedule to their internal clocks. My alarm clock is the pitter pat of a rodent's tiny toes doing her morning laps and my little leopard cat stomping on my pillow, until I obey.
I hung out on my roof to enjoy the air shows, spotting similarly-minded neighbors on their rooftops blocks away, like a modern Çatalhöyük. The jets practically shave the roof off my building. It's an eardrum-splitting good time, which I don't recommend unless you happen to live directly under it and have no choice but to embrace it.
My neighbors are polite and smart. I've come to adore our neighborly little chats in the common areas.
Neighbor-relationships are actually quite special. For years I semi tried to avoid them, declined a tea invite, and deliberately missed every hoa event. But, there is a certain intimacy in seeing the same familiar smile when getting the mail, taking the time to hear them tell me about their life, before going back to our separate lives. It's kind of lovely, even profound.
I just sipped my coffee in the dark and felt a crunch that shouldn't be there. I hope that was saffron threads, and not a spider! Nomnomnom.
The heat wave feels good and will be punctuated by rain which I'm looking forward to. May it drown the motorcyclists who spend $7/gallon to drive to my city just to do repetitive loops around my house to vibrate their balls for hours on end. Weird hobby. They keep getting their loud bikes stolen and threatening to stop driving here, and I'm not even upset.
Hannah Gadsby's memoir is great bathtime reading so far. This may be the first "best seller" type book I've deliberately sought out and bought.
Hark! The sun has risen. Time to start the day.
sunday - 2023-10-08