So the cats are complaining about being cooped up, and I open the door - a black streak and an orange streak indicate to me that either some sort of Halloween themed psychedelic spirit is exiting my apartment, or the cats are very, very ready to be outside. I splash cold water on my face and make coffee in the new grinder-and-coffee-machine device that is absurdly complicated but I've finally figured out, and really does make the best coffee I've ever had. As it's burring and chortling away, I notice both cats are back in, already, staring at me guiltily.
There's a very stiff wind blowing up from offshore. It's cloudy and smells like rain. Windchimes up and down the street are clanging away. I step over to the balcony to close the door and stop the wind. But it smells so sweet and fresh, like ocean and adventure and rain and memory. It's cool, almost chilly. I can't bear to close the door. Maybe later I'll close the door.
I get some coffee and catch up on email. Cats exit and re-enter. It's starting to get downright chilly in here, and the vertical blinds are rattling. I step over to the balcony, and ...again, I just can't bear to close that door. The wind is too invigorating.
Maybe I'll close it later. For now, I think a sweater, hot coffee, and a book on the balcony are in order.