June 22, 2003
On Sundays, the day off, when I wake up to take the first pee I also stagger to the kitchen and make a loaf of brown bread. I can do it fast and semi-somnambulent. I put it in the oven and set the alarm clock for 45 minutes hence. The alarm goes off and the smell of baking bread has permeated the apartment and for a second time I can lie there for a moment savoring the prospect of the day off and the satisfaction that I have managed to complete the baking of the bread. I take it out of the oven, tap its bottom— even though I know it’s cooked from its distinctive smell—and wrap it in a linen tea towel and then put it on a baking rack. And I go back to bed for a second delicious time. And I dream. We wake up late and we have both had the same dream. That we are living in the spare room of our friends in Los Angeles, that we have lost everything and are starting over again. It wasn’t a bad dream, not for me. I can’t imagine not being ready to start all over again, it’s the magic potion in my kit. We sit down to brown bread, butter, jam and excellent coffee. I hope we can always do this.
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On Sundays, the day off, when I wake up to take the first pee I also stagger to the kitchen and make a loaf of brown bread. I can do it fast and semi-somnambulent. I put it in the oven and set the alarm clock for 45 minutes hence. The alarm goes off and the smell of baking bread has permeated the apartment and for a second time I can lie there for a moment savoring the prospect of the day off and the satisfaction that I have managed to complete the baking of the bread. I take it out of the oven, tap its bottom— even though I know it’s cooked from its distinctive smell—and wrap it in a linen tea towel and then put it on a baking rack. And I go back to bed for a second delicious time. And I dream. We wake up late and we have both had the same dream. That we are living in the spare room of our friends in Los Angeles, that we have lost everything and are starting over again. It wasn’t a bad dream, not for me. I can’t imagine not being ready to start all over again, it’s the magic potion in my kit. We sit down to brown bread, butter, jam and excellent coffee. I hope we can always do this.
- rachael 6-22-2003 11:01 pm