the leaves are rustling in the trees.

Today I’m giving you an exciting treat to start off your work week. This Monday’s post comes to us from my friend KC who I met through my sister. She’s a published author who is currently in the process of publishing her first novel. She also is funny, wears super cute clothes, and lives in Boston, all of which mean that she is essentially my role model. You can check out her blog at katiecotugno.com and you can read about her book here.

I have everything I need to make Ina’s cheddar corn chowder except for the milk, which I get for $1.09 at Trader Joe’s on the way home from work. I make Ina’s cheddar corn chowder a lot and it is delicious, except for the one time I made it for a crowd and it was gross because my stock was watery, but my friends were too nice to say anything. Tonight, my stock is from a box. There is something distinctly satisfying about realizing you have everything you need except the milk.

My boyfriend is working. My apartment is clean. I sit in the bathtub for a while, turn the tap on and off with my toes. Before the milk I got a pedicure, Lincoln Park After Dark; it’s a fall color, summer winding down slow and graceful, worn out by a road trip to Arkansas and the Head and the Heart at Newport Folk Festival, a New York reunion with my best beloveds. In June I bought a pair of neon purple sneakers and wore them more than I ever thought I would. It’s more fun to wear sneakers if they are neon purple. I feel like someone should put that on a sampler somewhere.

I float for a while, thinking. September makes me want to buy new pens.

I’m reading a book by Jennifer Weiner and listening to one by Nora Roberts because screw you, pile of New Yorkers sitting unread in the basket next to the couch. Lately every time I open that magazine my eyes glaze over. I am unprepared for graduate-level thinking. The Weiner is better but the Roberts calms me down, the soothing voice of actress who narrates the audiobook, the silly Southern accent she does for the rangy policeman hero. She gets to the sex scene, the sex words; alone in my living room, I clap an embarrassed hand over my face.

I make tea before bed, like an old lady. The windows are wide open. The leaves are rustling in the trees.

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