Time

I wish I had more time. I wish I used the time I had more wisely. I cannot believe it is the last night in this house...that the time has finally and actually come to leave! Tomorrow morning, the last things (quite alot of last things) will be jigsaw-puzzled onto the truck, and then we pull out of the driveway for the very last time, and head off into the sunset and our new life elsewhere.

Here I am at the end of the day, knowing I should get some rest. Instead, I find myself tapping away at the keyboard or reading by the light of the monitor (lamps are packed), reluctant to let this last day go. Tomorrow brings new and unknown things; tomorrow is the first step on an undiscovered road; tomorrow leaves the comfortable and familiar behind.

JB and I stayed up later than usual, wandering a tangled conversational path. I think we were both prolonging our last evening of chatting in this house. Somehow - as is common, I believe - talk of politics led to talk of fashion (how clothing in the 1950s was universally flattering to women) and then of course to foundational garments. I'll spare you some of that, but along the way, we touched on the current trend of highwaisted trousers and the fashion for broad belts. Not regular belts serving the purpose of holding up your slacks, but very wide, decorative belts, worn over tops and blouses. Both JB and I are short waisted...hips to bossom with nothing in between is what I mean. It is very difficult to clothe us nicely, let alone fashionably, and we short waisted types cringe whenever these ridiculous fashions become pervasive. We laughed at the image of ourselves in one those belts, and JB illustrated the scene for me: "Look at this new belt I got!" (excitedly to friend) "It's got a great buckle, see?" (hoists up the bossom to show friend nifty new belt and its wonderful buckle)
Doesn't work, does it?

Right. I'll take my short-waisted self to bed now, acknowleding the demise of the era. Good night room. Good night house.