Swoon

. . . is how I'm liking my new house, my new town, the dinner we had last night, having good friends close.

But.
Our movers were three hours late.
(They got lost in Brooklyn.)
It took them another three to drive what took me one and a half.
(They got lost in New Jersey.)
We missed delivery of our stove.
(That's sandwiches for a week.)
The artery road is closed for the weekend.
(Provisional mental maps thus nonsensical.)
Digging out sheets at nearly midnight.
(Had internets before I had furniture.)

This daybreak, all the boxes (oh how they incessantly complained about the books) are on the first floor. They need to be on the second, mostly. Eh, no rush.

Gotta go get the last few things in Brooklyn, including the cat. Clean up.
So today's full too. (Been awake, if not up, since 4. Just can't sleep. Making lists.)

Still. Yesterday around 5, the sun through the spiky blur of the treeline, smudged lavender under gray, condensing into tangerine at the horizon, past an amber field interrogated by the dark curls of feeding geese, & me alone in my car on an empty road, I spilled over.