I hate getting ready to go away. Even if the "go-away" is only overnight. Today is filled with laundry and packing and last minute gift-shopping and house cleaning. Much as I hate rushing around before leaving, I have coming home to a messy house even more.
That's neither here-nor-there, tho. I keep going back to a poem I'd read over three years ago. It's one of those poems that you read and you immediately say "Damn, I wish I had written that one". It's amazing how some people can have some of the same thoughts as you do - and yet they are so able to express those thoughts while you have no idea of how it's done. I keep going back to it, and back to it, and back to it again.
The poem is entitled "The House" and it's written by Phillip Gross, whom I'd never heard of before. That'll be my present to myself today while I am out buying presents for everyone else. I'm going to try to track down one or more of his books.
Read the poem, please. It's incredible.