So I’m sitting here on a snowy afternoon at the end of December and I have to say I’m not sure what day it is. I think it’s Thursday?
Call it holiday sickness, Monday morning, I dunno what, but we woke up in a strange, silly mood this morning and I, for one, feel about as unfocused as a human can feel.
Do you feel the same?
Things to clean, books to read, poems to write, goats to kiss, pictures to take, basements to sort, recipes to choose, pies to bake, songs to warble, futures to divine, pasts to dissect, classic movies to wallow in, fires to feed.
Work? Oh yeah, that, too.