July Fourth, Accounted For

The holiday landed on a Monday this year, which gave the whole weekend a slightly unresolved feeling, like a sentence that ends with a preposition. I watched some fireworks from the window. I ate potato salad at a time that was either late lunch or early dinner and I'm not going to investigate further.

At some point in the afternoon I picked up that sketchbook I got at the pharmacy a few weeks ago. I opened it to a new page and tried to draw the window across the room. What I produced was approximately one rectangle inside a larger rectangle, slightly tilted, with a suggestion of a sill that looks more like a shelf that gave up. I looked at it for a minute. I closed the book. Gerald, for what it's worth, had nothing to say.

the artist at work. sort of.

That was basically it. There's something I find genuinely restful about a holiday that asks nothing of you, no plans, no performance, just a day that exists and then ends. The city was quieter than usual in the morning, loud by evening, quiet again by midnight. I went to sleep at a reasonable hour for the first time in a while.

windowsill cast of characters. unchanged.

Happy belated Fourth to everyone who celebrated. I hope your rectangles were straighter than mine.