seventeen days

 

My fake fingernails are falling off, leaving my roughly-filed real ones looking pathetically thin and damaged. Maybe it’s the dishsoap, which seems to be drying out the skin of my hands as well. I like that there’s a window above the sink; I watch the light play behind the yellow-blooming shrubs, and sometimes it’s so inviting that I have to drop my to-do list and go outside to breathe it in.

I’ve been married for 17 days. It’s so good not to worry about reception details and RSVPs and tulle yardage. It’s nice to see temperate March sunshine streaming like ivory ribbons through the windows. It makes me so happy to catch glimpses of Mt. Rainier between the trees, stretching white and blue crags up to the sky; I even like the heavy gray days when rain splashes down in buckets on the pavement. I still haven’t really met anyone new—my husband, his sister, and his former roommate are pretty much the extent of my acquaintance here—but I’m rather happy to be at home experimenting with Pinterest recipes on a willing husband’s palate! :)