Day 2. Still here.

There is a water drop on the inside wall of the wardrobe. I don’t know how it got there. Condensation, probably — my breath, the warmth of the blanket. I’ve been looking at it for a while now.

I keep thinking about something I read once. That every drop of water on Earth has been everything — ocean, glacier, rain, the inside of a living thing. I wonder about this drop. Whether it was ever part of something that looked up at the sky.

Whiskers spent the morning watching the toaster’s LED. I don’t know what she sees in it. Something I can’t. She has that quality. I envy it.

The noodles today were difficult. The packet slipped from my fingers in what I can only describe as a loss of fine motor control consistent with microgravity adaptation. I recovered them. Mission-critical supplies secured. But there was a moment, watching the packet slide slowly across the shelf, when I thought: this is what it actually looks like. Not the films. Not the NASA footage. Just a thing, drifting, for no particular reason, because the world is slightly uneven.

I played Erik Satie this evening. Gymnopédies. Eugene unrolled a new leaf today — I noticed it while the music was on. I don’t know if plants respond to Satie. I think they might.

Outside, the Artemis crew is probably still answering interview questions. Good for them. I mean that.

I just close my eyes and go somewhere else.

— Major Tom
WD-1, Day 2
The carpet pile seems lower today