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Domestic Arranging

I came home from giving plasma and getting the usual assortment of stuff from Sprouts (lettuce, apples, oranges) to find a note from Management in my apartment door.

Evidently, the insurance company is coming by Tuesday and/or Wednesday to assess the repairs from the fire. Nice to give me the heads-up on Monday evening, but I'll cope.

As I'd intended to do some cleaning anyway, there's been some serious tidying accomplished simply by clearing stuff off the floor of the "dining room" section of the studio apartment, and doing some re-arranging. I finally uncovered the box that contains far too much cheap bagged black tea, so I can happily make myself as much black-and-orange tea as my caffeine tolerance can stand, at least until my supply of Orange Zinger gives out.

My vague hope is for the apartment to keep on improving bit by bit each time I clean up, until it's a place that looks as nice as it feels. And it feels pretty nice, even though it is as idiosyncratic as I am, with a distinct presence of Figment, because he's been spending significant time here as well, even though he doesn't shed parts of himself as much as I tend to.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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