Waiting for the laundry

Actually, I'm overjoyed it's come this far.

Ref has already told the plumbing guys (Pedro and Jeremy; Jorge hasn't been here for a few days 'cause his wife just had a baby) that he was impressed with their neatness and skill -- even pipes to the washer concealed in walls.

I was holding down the porch this morning -- Ref took the crew off to late breakfast before sheeting the new roofs, so I watched over the equipment -- and was thinking what a great place it will be to kill time while a load spins.

It was a cool, cloudy, sea-breezy day. There was one moderate storm just after dawn, and a big one caught me on Duval around noon. But midmorning was ideal. Our neighbor, Frankie, had a huge smile when she said, "It's always this nice when something's brewing out there," gesturing somewhere toward Cuba.

She traipsed off on her errand to the drugstore, and I was left with a mockingbird running through his playlist, a little brown lizard slowly exploring the sidewalk, one pigeon in the mood to mate with a pigeon who was not in the mood, a tiny frog singing in a hedge of what I think are some leftover ficuses. . . .

All punctuated with other neighbors walking their dogs and a little extra traffic, mostly scooters but the occasionial Escalade, too: Duval is shut for Pride Fest, and befuddled tourists don't realize that our street is less a shortcut than one leg of a maze.

Every so often, as I watched the palms blowing, I caught myself sighing and grinning like a fool. It's a great day when your only regret is that you haven't brought a book along.