  I hear an ominous buzzing. It's the sound of flies, masses of them, a sound that will stop you dead in your tracks in an open field as you scan for carnage. I've looked for the source of this sound for days, peeking over the hill into the gorge behind our house, searching for the telltale swivel of a buzzing fly that will lead my eye to the carcass.
There isn't any. Perhaps a corpse will float up in my life somewhere else, then. Something I had forgotten for a long time, rising reeking to the surface. More painting, more spots on the floor dabbed up with my fingers. I'm green today. Last night, we rented "Love Actually", which was a wonderful movie. I'm a little sore today about the fat jokes, and I'm thinking moodily about fat in society. Old Navy (which I should not support anyway) has created a Plus Size section, which means that fat people will no longer be able to have their pick of all the stylish clothes to wear, but will be shunted off into a corner to pick over a small selection of approved garments. As someone who falls neatly into the crack between "regular" and "plus size" clothes, I can be guaranteed to have nothing to wear at all. Fuckers. Instead I get to wear my mismatched clothes and see Mary Kate Olsen staring dolefully out of all the magazines at me, glamorizing annorexia and causing involuntary images of myself retching into a toilet.
I'm once again considering my old notion of living as a hermit in the mountains. We spent a glorious afternoon at the pool yesterday, and Gavin dunked himself for the first time. He struggles to escape us now, certain he can swim like a fish if we would just let go. We compromise and set him loose on the stairs, where he crawls on his belly through the water and jumps in deeper and deeper until he clings to the wall and dangles freely. We returned home to find the neighbor girl pressed up against our screen door. That child is bored, and I can't say I like our family privacy invaded on a daily basis. I'm learning to manage her. 
