It is a grey, damp, autumn day, of the sort which require the warm glow of lamplight to soften the edges of life.
It is the kind of day best suited for tea, soup, and grilled cheese, for lit candles and the quiet murmur of NPR, for hiding in a garrett and scribbling.
And so that is the plan.
Except, I don’t have a garrett, but a 2nd-floor bedroom-turned-
But it’s in the treetops, so it counts, right?