and I'd rather be across the street where, on the garage roof, there is a cozy arbor with a comfortable-looking white plastic table and chair set among terracotta pots with various flowers and plants, including, as far as I can tell without binoculars, bamboo and pink hortensias.
It's a still life. Nothing moves over there, unless you count a slight tremble of leaves from barely noticeable air movement.
There are voices through the connecting door from the office next to mine.
I am in two worlds.