a small thing

Though the building I live in has some serious noise problems, (yes, girl-downstairs-with-your-perpetual-marilyn-manson, I’m looking at you), I like that I can hear when the person in the room above me uses their typewriter.

David and I hosted a mellow Sunday Tea yesterday. Not as many people came by as last month, but as it was the first summery Sunday of the year, it was to be expected. (If it weren’t for hosting Tea, I would have been at Wreck Beach, too.) It was still good, though, with people coming in small waves of three or four, staying for a few hours, then drifting out into the golden light again. A drowsy afternoon sort of salon rather than a chattering box of swirling, snacking bodies. We sat on the porch, feet up on the balcony railings. We lounged, we sipped, we shared. It wasn’t exciting, but it was nice. The heat was like honey.

The next tea will be on July 29th.

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