I am learning to hate urethane. The sanding and the floor washing between coats, the 45 minutes spent stirring the glop in the can, the poisonous miasma, the hours of crawling around on hard floors, the nastiness of paint thinner, the instructions on the label that claim "Covers in two coats!" when you have a premonition you might need four.

Today will be coat 3, and I sincerely hope my premonition is wrong.

On the bright side, the odor of urethane overpowers the smell of the eleven cats who previously lived in the house. And Tom has almost finished the first coat of joint compound in the kitchen. And I bought an affordable airline ticket for my kid. And the cat mostly allowed me to sleep all night.

Today will be a rainy day, and I have not yet spent a rainy day at the house, so I am looking forward to that, even though the basement will probably get wet. And yesterday I did enjoy eating lunch and reading Mansfield Park and watching the sunlight filter through the streaky front windows.

Before dark I'll feel the lassitude enter
first my arms and legs and spread like water
toward the deep organs. I'll lie on my bed
hearing the quail bark as they scurry
from cover to cover in their restless searching
after sustenance. This place can break your heart. 

[from "Keats in California" by Philip Levine]