tell me what you see.

I just woke from a nap. It's dark in here, really dark. To my right I see the flickering blue and green lights of my modem and router. Other than my monitor screen, those are the only lights in the room. Looking straight ahead I can see strips of midnight blue sky through the blinds. To the left is my bed - the tangled mass of blankets and pillows that I just tumbled out of. I can't really see them from here, but at the end of my bed are stacks and stacks and stacks of papers and books from this past semester that I will (eventually) have to sort through and put away. But not tonight. Apparently today is for cocooning. Looking at my phone, I have text messages from a friend, but I am going to ignore them until tomorrow. Gonna walk the dog and go back to bed. Watch a movie or something.

 

I sit in a dark room with only the shimmer of the TV light playing The Great Gasby on the left, a dark coffee table in front of me, with matte white furniture in the distance. She-lish asleep on the couch on the right. A quiet sunday night.

 

Predawn in the mancave, the 2 24" monitors are a bit bright and the vacuum tube preamp is glowing nicely, asking to be turned up. Out the windows, I can see silhouettes of trees and a faint red glow of dawn in the mountains. I can barely see the bearskin rug at my feet, though she's snoring.