The ambient hum of the heat, background unnoticed unless you are in a moment of stillness, or if you pass a vent in which case you feel the sound along with the warmth on your face. The churning of the washing machine, a load of mostly yours but some of your son’s clothes as well, with a towel perhaps. You do not remember, for you tossed it in there before your first cup of coffee, and therefore it might as well have been yesterday, and what do you remember of yesterday? You remember the big things: a day of pretty good work: failure to find a pharmacy with the meds: picking your son up from school: visiting his grandparents and raiding their pantry to feed your him before ninja class: ninja class, and the astonishment at what he can do, what he does: the first hour or so of part ii of the Mighty Nein reunion. Getting the band back together. Did you play guitar yesterday? No. Did you spend a moment yesterday in regret for selling the red Gretsch? Yes. Memorable regret. Red Gretsch Regret. That is a little bit terrible.
Time for another cup of coffee.