Boots on step — locked outside

I am writing this because the hall keeps a shorter version of boots on step — locked outside than the one I lived through. If you only heard it at the table after bread, you might think nothing happened. Something did.

I counted because Lena counts. I tied back because Joost ties. I turned the bulb off because Anouk should not have to say it a fifth time in one month.

I will not reply to every thank-you. I will notice if the kettle is on the cellar stair again.

If it is not in Sara's note, it was on the step.

My boots are on the step. Green pair. If they are in your way, move them one metre, not into the long room.

No drama intended.

Same rule as last month. Still the rule.

Train was late. Bus was not. I still made Friday. Thin and true beats a calendar of maybes.

That is all I have.

Same rule as last month. Still the rule.

My boots are on the step. Green pair. If they are in your way, move them one metre, not into the long room.

That is all I have.

Bulb off. Key on the nail. I checked.

My boots are on the step. Green pair. If they are in your way, move them one metre, not into the long room.

That is all I have.

If it is not in Sara's note, it was on the step.

Train was late. Bus was not. I still made Friday. Thin and true beats a calendar of maybes.

That is all I have.

I read this walking out to the path.

I am not asking for a bed in this reply. I am asking the board to stay boring in the useful way.

See you Thursday if the weather agrees.

Same rule as last month. Still the rule.

I am not asking for a bed in this reply. I am asking the board to stay boring in the useful way.

Mail if it is a bed question.