We had such a delightful weekend. Morgan came down from New York, Adam came up from Miami. Morgan and I walked twice to the Hirshhorn to squint at cinematic dreamscapes, fascinated by how birds chirping can be made ominous. Friday and Saturday were breezy and balmy and we laughed late into the night on our patio with white Christmas lights and frothy beer and grill-marked pineapple on skewers. And yesterday was perfectly gray and gloomy, giving us an excuse to linger over brunch, watching the rain drip off of people’s umbrellas through the open restaurant door. We snuck candy into the movie theater and then curled up under a heavy yellow blanket at home while Steve made cookies and Ben serenaded us with Jack Johnson songs on the guitar.

And then came Monday, the agony of the alarm clock (this is my ahhhh-7:30-already face), still gray and gloomy and rainy, which lacks magic when accompanied by data entry and florescent light instead of Eggs Florentine and Morgan’s sweet face.

• April 21st, 2008
• the district, with music
• 1 comment
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