Monday, December 10

Today it is difficult not to drink. I mean not to drink early. This morning with ice over everything and no cream for coffee, like a sign or something that whiskey would do or bourbon or scotch or anything but coffee with no cream.

There is a smell in the house, a bad smell, like lost sippy cup or worse. Keep doing laundry. Close the gate upstairs and mop the floor. Replace the bad smell with the bad smell of bleach. Strip the beds.

Wash Sam's chair. Scrub yogurt from the grooves in the table. Bring the garbage outside. Knock the ice off the lid. Shovel the steps, the walk. Throw salt on it.

Watch the crows fly away. I forgot about winter, this way things have of freezing shut. The way windex freezes on a window.

At one o'clock Jane brings me cream. I give her soup. I set oranges and cloves to boil on the stove.

It is after noon and I haven't had a drink.

My streak stands unbroken.


Jane said...

You have a way of making things clear. Like being able to see through mud. Thanks for this. And thanks for the soup.

Karen said...

Amanda, I loved reading this blog. The ice, the lack of cream, the weird smell, the reality that scotch at 8AM makes perfect sense....beautiful.

subtext said...

I agree with Karen. I love the melancholic clarity of your writing; beautiful.