today is quiet. sometimes

today is mine. almost completely. i awoke at 5:30 to a hungry cat missing her feeder, and staved her off until 8:30. this brutal feat of will convinced me she learned the bitter lesson that her stomach does not own me, and likely left her annoyed, preparing to shift her schedule for a stubborn foe.

we both ate in silence, after which i continued a knitting project, interrupted at times by the sounds of large things moved clumsily downstairs. the sounds crescendoed and voices marked an interlude, beckoning me to the window. two men pushing half-full grocery carts were the nexus of the concatenation, descending upon an abnormally large grouping of personal affects on the sidewalk below. more people appeared--women on bikes, couples with dogs, a greasy-haired headbanger analyzing vinyl. everything was free, and nothing was easy to survey. people dug into bursting pillow cases, rifled through junk drawers, and lifted bicycles onto precarious grocery carts. the soon-to-be-former owner jabbered away, likely happy for the attention and entertainment. when i walked down the stoop later in the day, he flashed me a smile and said hello in a manner i hadn't observed in months. something must be going right.