Mid-Week Words

from the Journal, entry dated Oct. 29th 2013-
Its so easy to get comfortable, so comf that you often forget what you have.
It came to me relaxing on the couch Sunday afternoon, blister on my hand ripped open from steaming the house, laughing at Tuscany's confusion from wet carpets, reading a book from the local library, taking in the fruits of my cleaning efforts, that this is my home.
And for once, it feels like home.
I love my little town. I love the petting zoo at the end of my road, the park at the other, the ancient and beautiful Pine Grove Cemetery, the unique and richly detailed homes of the historic district, and the winding roads around the pond. I had to take a moment to walk around my apartment and take it all in, remember the story of these pieces of my life and how they got there. The couch from a curb in Fitchburg, the cabinets and desk from my grandparents, the vintage 50's coffee table from my father. When you dont make a lot of money, you don't often buy furniture, so much as acquire interesting pieces over time. Honestly, I enjoy it so  much more than a trip to a furniture shop. Here, everything has its own story, from the kitchen chairs Dad and I reupholstered, to the mattress I currently sleep on.
And I do so love to tell a good story.

from the Sigil of Azazel, chapter 4-
The day was not made any brighter by the early afternoon hour. Eve stepped outside to a sky void of sunlight, choked up with an endless grey mass, not so much clouds as one great hulking monster of one, dimming the world so much that cars night time lights were automatically flaring to life. She had to be careful not to step too close to the curb as cars roared past, throwing the water gathered on the streets edge in great, bone chilling arcs. It was one of those days where it seemed impossible to be raining, to be warm enough not to freeze, and yet there it was. A few lamps in the shadows of the taller skyscrapers in this block were even flickering to life, illuminating the impossibly deep pools of water.