sunday sunday sunday

I realize that not everyone in blog land is having as great an October as I think I am so far, but you must agree that few things beat a rainy gray afternoon around 4 p.m., when your friends have just left after a weekend of Trivial Pursuit: 1960's edition, and cheese bread purchased warm from the farmers market, and bottle after bottle of home brew, red wine and pumpkin ale, and rhubarb turnovers, and sepia-toned photographs of someone smushing the dog's butt onto your face, and Okkervil River, and now your fridge is filled with leftover apple pie and acorn squash, and your job for the remainder of the weekend is to catch up on e-mail and maybe read a book.

And when your friends leave, they leave behind a potted orchid, an old camera, a poem and the very faint smell of different deodorants and cigarettes, all of which makes the apartment finally feel like it's beginning to accumulate history, which is turning it from the place that you moved to the place that you -- finally -- live.