It's been raining since last night, and it's cold and damp again. I"M COLD. The studio is COLD. Normally I like this kind of weather, but today I just feel like snuggling up in front of a roaring fire with a blanket, a cup of hot Earl Grey, and a good book.
Okay--I just put the flannel quilt over the space heater and me, and that feels toasty. I'm sure it's a fire hazard, so I won't do it for long, but aaaaah.
I'm sleepy and lonely.
(Later) So I'm semi-snoozing (is there such a thing?)in the studio, and the phone rings. It doesn't just ring, it beeps for the intercom. Which means THERE IS SOMEONE IN MY HOUSE. IN MY EMPTY HOUSE. Of course, since this person is playing with the phone, I wander on up to see who it is, figuring anyone stupid enough to break into a house and then play with the phones is obviously unarmed...
And it's Hubby! He got fed up at work and decided to come home! (I remember when I was home with three littles how that would have just infuriated me, to think that he could have a job where he could just leave when he wanted to--now, I'm glad it's him working and not me.)
So I envisioned a cozy afternoon at home, just the two of us.
He's curled up in the family room watching ESPN. He's curled up with a blanket and the dog he calls 'the great white rat.' So I'm back out in the studio, where it's warm(er) and I feel like getting some work done.