The basement below me is churning softly as the laundry agitates, and the kitchen smells warmly of onion, tomato and celery, with a hint of Worcestershire. I'm getting ready to peel the carrots and potatoes to cut them into the stew. It'll be time to add water, too. Buffy Season 4 continues apace, and I managed not to cry when Oz drove away. It's quiet today. I can't believe it's after five.
The sky is still light. Days are longer and longer, and I keep being surprised that it has become March already. Time is a quick mover; how does it keep so silent on those cat feet?
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