It made me wish quite fervently that I made more of a habit of, say, not putting things on the floor when I am done with them. Particularly not things made of paper like big beautiful art books, adored paperbacks and bank statements.
Opening the paper this morning somewhat tempered my sulkiness about a few things being ruined though.
I don't know, everything's very strange at the moment.
Tonight my sister is leaving for Australia where she will be for at least six months. Next week or so I am moving out for the first time to my own place. My little brother sadly commented that he does not approve of "this dispersal."
I don't know.
(ps: I'm not sure I approve of these little emotion faces. As the blank one has a smile but everyone who has ever seen my face in action would know that my default face (blank, if you will,) has a turned down mouth.)