I can STILL smell it. Whatever it is. I can't move the hot water heater, so I will rake out as much dust as possible with the broom. And I am going to mop the floor. And when Kevin comes home I'm going to make him move the fridge because a witch's house should smell like herbs and incense. Tea and bread. Wine and candles. Maybe even something mysterious, something that is unique to witches, the smell of magick and conjuring.
Speaking of witchy things, my hair is slowly going gray. This isn't a surprise, it comes early in my mother's family. There is one gray hair on the top of my head. It is thick and it refuses to lay flat with the rest of my hair. It stands up and waves defiantly. 'Look, look, LOOK at me!'
Pretty soon I'm going to look like what I am- an old fierce witch.
At least it's a nice silver color.