Clock

 

March 11, 2021

Something walking on the roof. I hope it’s a squirrel. 

Went to Ann’s studio yesterday and was shown (would like to say “learned,” but I can’t) the first few minutes of our pas de deux for April 30. It actually felt good to do the movements, like an elegant stretch class. It would be best not to speculate on how I look. The dance is based on the life journey of her parents. The creek behind her studio is full of broken marble headstones.

Planted a purple smoke tree, dug out several plots of bamboo. 

The big Seth Thomas clock I bought in memory of my grandmother has sat on the bookcase for most of a year, silent until I read the directions at length and get it going. But today when I came in from shopping it had sprung to life, ticking, bonging on the hour (chiming on the quarter hour) like a live thing. Did someone sneak in and wind my clock? I wish they had set it as well. 

Got the ladder out to change the burnt-out light in the bathroom ceiling. I can’t reach it even on a ladder. I see a house darkening through the years, me unable to change the bulbs. The kitchen cabinets and all the clothing poles in the closets, too, are made for a race of giraffes.