I just want to spatter!

Written last night:

Dear Friends, 

I just heard a knock. It was on another person's door, but my heart was racing for a minute.  I'm in bed -- I'm always in bed when I write this -- and that makes you/me feel vulnerable. Just one of the little things about living in a multi-unit place. Actually, I feel safe here, especially with my guard dog Zing ( who is asleep on the pillow beside me) and the new orange emergency whistle Susan gave me. It's on the table nearby. Well, not that near.  

Today was quiet, the way I like Sunday to be. Zing went to Grateful Dog for half a day. I went to church and then a local coffee shop. It had an earnest name: Identity.  There was a big dog lying on the (cement) floor. The coffee was good.  I felt comfortable reading the Times at the  raw wood counter. Next time I'll go with Zing. 

I planned to read and nap the rest of the day, but soon was painting wood blocks for drapery hardware extensions (The drapes hang too close to the wall.) and also painted the wicker hall table.  I worked on the balcony and fussed about whether I should protect the cement floor or let paint spatter. One suits the semi-dictatorial style of the HOA; the other is what I really want to do.  I ended up spattering and then mopping some of it off. Really, I want to spatter! 

Love,
k