Little Bill

The weekend has come to a close. It’s an open-window kind of night, where I can rest assured that the sounds of Bedford Avenue will be subdued, for a change. The cats are a few steps ahead of me tonight, curled up behind me, occupying opposite corners of the bed. It’s been a good and productive weekend. The house is unpacked; the floors are swept and mopped — it seemed to remove the final remnant of floor-lacquer smell to which I’d become accustomed to coming home — and Robert Plant & Alison Krauss are singing to me through my speakers.

I spent the entire weekend alone — working, cleaning, strolling around the hood, taking photographs, chattering online or on the phone, brushing the cats’ winter coats away. It was nice. Peaceful. Busy. Exhausting, but in that good way I mention below.

I’m ready for bed and, for the first time in a long time, I feel energized for the week to begin.

My new home loves me.