First night at home since last Wednesday. It turns out living in a proper house on the back side of the Berkeley/Oakland hills with a round fluffy cat and what look like giant turkeys, blue jays, squirrels, deer and maybe pheasants? quail? I don't remember what I saw, but crazy magical wild life running through the backyard of my pretend house. I am LOVING it. My temporary house (courtesy of the prof who runs the ecology lab, for whom I am house/cat/car-sitting) also boasts TWO ovens, one of which can do convection, a fancy pants top of the line stove in an island in the middle of the giant sunny kitchen. Sigh. I should try to house sit more often.
And now also taking care of tomatoes and kittens while the newlyweds are off honeymooning. It's kind of like trying on lives, this coming home to different homes, sometimes multiple homes per day.
And I kind of like these different lives, in which the cupboards contain different colors of Fiesta-ware, depending on which key I used to get in the door. As time consuming as it is moving constantly from place to place, it has been a much needed change of pace.
I even sunbathed yesterday. Sunbathing. Me. It turns out the trick to not becoming bored to death after five minutes is working on GRE math problems while you sprawl out on your towel on your very own patch of grass. Under a dim incandescent bulb, I'm almost starting to look tan-ish.
...Which is also thanks to a lovely lovely lovely fourth spent in Danville with the most gracious Daniels. Sarah and I took in the parade, took a dip in the pool, dined at her grandparents (who are the most fabulous, fabulous, fabulous and adorable couple ever -- I want to invite them to all my tea parties from now on. I'll put her opa on tea sandwich making duty, lest he put me to shame), and practically watched fireworks from the comfort of a deliciously comfortable jacuzzi. Indeed, any day with fireworks is a good day.
