And all of us home together on a Sunday. With nothing to do and nowhere to go and no car (which suddenly and completely lost all power on Friday afternoon while I was going 35 mph from Barbur Blvd. to Naito Parkway with baby sleeping in the back seat — seriously scary, with nowhere to pull over, and now I'll be trading in my nineteen-year-old Volvo and getting a new car — wah). The imposed immobility was a boon; rarely do we spend a whole weekend at home together without going somewhere in the car. We walked as much as we could stand to in the rain. We talked and cooked and worked on the yard and took a bath and read and slept and I slept some more. I fell asleep on the couch while watching Globe Trekker. I almost fell asleep in the bathtub reading Diary of a Nobody (which Andy loves, he being a big Jerome K. Jerome fan, too). I told him I felt sure my connective tissues were dissolving, I was that tired. My arms and legs felt like noodles, my brain blank and woolly. Amelia, who has not been keen on bathing without screaming this winter, later came in with me and played contentedly, drawing with the bath crayons while I poured water from a little cup over and over again down her back. We did this for ages and only screamed once. The water eventually turned chilly and she got out and I stayed in and drained the tub and turned on the shower, as hot as I could stand. Daytime stretched into dinnertime, then bedtime. The sky turned gray then light then gray then rained then lightened then rained then poured. I ate tapioca pudding for dessert. I'd like to do the whole day over again, and keep it exactly the same.
