I got home at 8 tonight.
That’s a rare thing, Zonk. Because Wednesday is usually Yoga day, and because things have been hectic lately, and because I had to meet a contractor who couldn’t make it after all. I rang the bell and I stood outside until it hit me that the house was empty. My mother and nephews were out and I’d forgotten.
But houses have vibes, you know? Sounds and smells and so on. I have a theory that if you know a house well enough, you can identify it by vibe alone.
I know that I can sense mine. When I stand outside my door on a weekday evening, my house feels like scolding and laughter and weariness and loud TV shows. But I stood there tonight and it felt only still. Which is also rare. And also nice.
And so I dug my key out of my bag and let myself in and lay down on my bed and spent 10 minutes feeling profoundly, uncomplicatedly happy to be home early on a Wednesday night in a house I can read through the door.