  More quiet observations from my house on a hill, the pounding of construction shut out by sealed windows. Watching this morning the higher-ups in kakis and dress shirts scouring over blueprints unfurled on the hood of a Durango. A marked change from the F-250s that litter the virgin streets. Cell phones held to the ears of each. I like to pretend that theyre all just talking to each other right there in the huddle; they just want to use their company-issued mobiles and the expensed minutes. One man lifts one leg at a time to investigate his shoes as if he has found the losing end of dog ownership ground into his immaculate loafers.
But alas! Just to brush that infernal dirt off the patent shine! Oh, the occupational hazards of being a contractor! A whole lot more sleep behind me, propping me up to enjoy another seamless session of immobile musing. Id love to get out and have a swim at least. Today marks the fourth week since the surgery, and Ive two more before Im allowed to walk, ha ha.
However I may have bypassed that bit of advice, I am still leery about doing anything without the aide of my big, black and grey boot. Drizzle and clouds, a chill in the breeze that speaks to my longing to nestle into soft jeans and a thick sweater. A French press of Starbucks is first on the docket. The kettle is singing on the stove downstairs. More later 
