Talking to Grace is so annoying, it’s like a lesson in vocabulary. She said “I am so tired; I need to slumber.” Just say sleep, like a normal person, but later lying in bed saying the word slumber over and over in my head it sang me to sleep like a persistent poem.
Sunday Sounds: Soft Peach with touches of gold shimmer.
Saturday was a deep cleaning cleanse. Uncovered lost scraps of paper; to do lists, self-help notes frantically scribbled on post its. Sunday was voices in my head remembering all the things I was supposed to remind myself, until I clean again.
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