I’m interested in the small details of everyday life, the little intangible, tragic, joyous, sanctified or profane habits that make us who were are. In fact, such are the fine focus of poetry and good writing; the intangible motes that make the shaft of light we writers throw on an otherwise mundane universe.

I almost always put my left sock on first, sitting on the edge of the bed, and then the right. The shoes later, on the way out. I keep them by the front door, kick them off when I come in.

In my story Winter Angel, it was very important to me that the man, when asking his wife to bring him more tea, does not pick up his cup from the table. It leaves it resting, and tilts it toward him, looking in. It was essential, somehow, to his reality, so it’s vital to mine.

Now I am drinking tea; Constant Comment, as they were out of my favorite Decaf Vanilla Chai at the store. This time of year, I like a spicy tea at night. Something to put me in mind of mulled wine. With my vitals well warmed, I can tell you, because it matters, that my old canine friend Tasha would come from any distance at the sound of a kiss, as well as a whistle.

The little things matter, because they are what we remember, and we are made of memory.

But I digress. I started off on this post because I wondered this thing, apropos of the socks and such:

Let’s say you’re working in your study, late of an evening as am I, and you decide to make a cup of tea. It doesn’t have to be this effeminate stuff I’m slurping; imagine anything you like. Do you boil the water, return to your desk, go back and pour the tea, and then let it steep beside you as you work? Or do you leave it to steep in the kitchen, and make another trip to fetch it, maybe adding sugar or lemon, when it’s ready?

Me, I do the latter, about 80% of the time. I don’t like to put the sweetener in with the tea bag, and I like to let it steep with a saucer over the cup. I imagine, despite the lack of evidence, it gets stronger that way. So it’s easier just to leave it, and set the timer on the microwave for 5 minutes or 10, and go back. Otherwise, I forget it, and it’s sitting there cold in the morning. A sad thing to wake up to.

Don’t tell me it just doesn’t matter, because, as we’ve seen, the dog is in the details.