raining
There was so much sun in my kitchen yesterday I had to wade knee deep through it to get to my fridge. I was going to shop for curtains but now I think I will leave the windows bare until summer. Sunshine = happiness. Today it is raining but I think I enjoyed enough sun yesterday to last for a while.
It is Anton Chekhov’s birthday. So I am thinking of spending a little time with “Anne,” a short story I am having some difficulty with. I am hoping a little of this day will rub off on me. I got a chuckle when reading the Writer’s Almanac – where Chekhov once wrote to a friend,
"Critics are like horseflies which prevent the horse from ploughing ... only [one] made an impression on me. He said I would die in a ditch drunk."
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