Another morning of black tea and the “shifting into reverse” chorus of “BEEP-BEEP-BEEP” from the daily dump-truck visit. I started my freelance-work-week early, up at 7:30 to make a pot of tea and hustle Andreas out to door to head back down to Olympia for school. I walked him out to the car and was overcome by the cool misty autumn morning. Memories of nauseous school mornings came rushing back to me, synaesthetically inspired by the combination of cool moist skin on my face, the early morning hours, and the sight of brown leaves limping down the sidewalk.

Last week I printed a simple “NO WAR” sign that I posted in my kitchen window that faces the alley. Last night I arrived home to find a note on my door from the landlord, reminding me that in the lease I signed, I agreed not to put any “signs or placards in or around the apartment building.” You’ll notice that the rule does not extend to flags. In other words, flying the ol’ stars and stripes is just fine, posting a “NO WAR” sign is against the rules. After spending a few minutes seething and trying to think of ways around the rule (writing something on my curtains? Tracing the letters out of spaggetti stuck to the glass?), I decided to drop the adolescent “piss off, landlord!” act and just put the sign on the chest of the styrofoam man on my fridge. You can see it from the window anyway.