The day before we left for New York, I distinctly remember looking at Our Tree and being So Fussed that we would miss its blooming while we were away.
We got home after dark last night, which meant that when I woke up this morning, I was so pleasantly surprised by white blossoms just barely hanging on to the branches.
Snatching my phone off of its charger and running into the driveway to see it properly from the outside and to capture the moment was more of a reflex than a well thought-out plan.
All is well.
So we are home. Finally.
I got nine hours of uninterrupted sleep last night. Considering that on a good day I’d call a straight six an accomplishment, I’d say being reunited with my own bed was nothing short of magical.
I wouldn’t say that I’m a delicate sleeper. Give me something functional and I’m usually good to go.
But apparently I needed this.
And today, the “weekend” day I haven’t had since May 12 or so. Doing piles of laundry, attending to my mitts and paws, actioning some low-grade decluttering. Dinner with family.
Restoring order to the nest.