Contenta

I love that I can hear the bells from this room. In a year (and now another week) of living here, I've never been sure if they were the bells from San Prospero or the Duomo, but either way, I love them. It makes the whole thing so much more European.

I love the view from my room, especially if you stand to the side a bit and look out slightly on an angle. The reddish of the Palazzo Vescovile turns purpleish-grayish and then maroon as dusk falls, and the sky turns such a jewel-like blue sometimes. (Incidentally, the view from my room is what is featured in that little picture on the side of the page. Or, at least, I can see a little picture. My internet prowess is not so great - read: nonexistant - so the likelihood that anyone else can see the little picture is also not so great. But anyway.)

It was nice moving back in here. It feels slightly surreal in a way: wasn't I *just* lugging these suitcases *down* the stairs in the fierce August heat just, like, five minutes ago? And now here I am dragging them back up and I have gloves and a coat on...

Good to be back, though. Like last year, when I first moved in. Such a relief, after creepy man from the Apartment of No Hot Water. I remember lovingly scrubbing the hardwood floor with hardwood-floor-scrubbing stuff and being so delighted when the dust wiped away and it started to shine. Yesterday I did that again, and cleaned the walls a bit (bizarre... I never clean the walls at home... but here they're starkly white and apparently benefit from an occasional spot of dusting). I even sforzata'd myself and took down the spiderwebs from the corners of the ceiling. Well, most of them. There's one left, and that's because there's a spider in it. He is just innocuous-looking enough that I don't mind leaving him there, partially because he is very high up and I don't particularly fancy having him land on my head if I try to get him with the broom.

Anyway, now everything is shiny and clean and I went to Esselunga and got some vegetables which I shall attempt to work up the courage to cook and it feels like this is my home again. It's very soothing.

It's nice sitting here at my newly-built desk with the bells going and the sounds of the market drifting up and over from the piazze. The swivel chair, by the way, is holding up nicely and has been supporting my full weight for at least twenty minutes despite the fact that I left out two screws and another metal-y hexagon thing when I built it yesterday morning.

I think I will go make a sandwich with some fresh mozzarella. I missed fresh mozzarella. It's good to be back.