Monday, May 28, 2012

And if she mentions that she's tired, still don't let her go to sleep.

Sitting on the deck with a novel, taking a break from the warped reality and unsteady ground (and endless minutiae) of IQ84. The sound from the amateur softball game carries, the swift unmistakable crack of a bat. Wearing a romper and sipping a soy White Russian, planning Thursday's dinner, file this away under The Housewife Years.

No comments: