I am painting my apartment. And it is going much more slowly than I thought. Perhaps because the last time I did a job like this was a critical handful of years ago, or the whole building was nearly empty, or the ceilings were two feet lower. So, having not come even close to finishing, last night I went to bed with the house all disassembled. Furniture all pushed around, curtains down off the windows, stacks of stuff on all flat surfaces.

I thought I would sleep restlessly, shallow and tossing in accord with the disturbance. But I woke to a delicious cool morning, sun brilliant through the unshaded windows. There is only my bed in the room and the walls primered a flat white make it blissfully simple. I don't think I will see anything more beautiful today than the intricate shadows of the ironwork, the fire escape, striping clean walls.