Sunday night, and I’ve been dealing with some sort of funk today that decided to take residence in my sinuses and pound on my brain with a viral sledgehammer.
Lisa is down with it, too, although she thinks she’s on the tail end of it and maybe I’m on the front end.
This next week is looking to get busy, lots of things to get squared away for tomorrow and Tuesday. I have a pretty long list.
Lots for the think about. I seem to be waxing a bit philosophical today, reading passages by philosophers and poets, ideas about our place in the universe, and how we are accompanying each other on a journey.
And then the sniffles and the sneezing kick back in for a spell.
I’ve got too much to do to feel like crap.
9:40.
And about another sixty words and I’ll hit the sack.
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Sometimes those sixty words pour out like so much coffee or tea from a silver serving pot.
Other times, it’s more of a struggle.
Writing on demand isn’t something that I excel at, another form of performance anxiety I suppose.
I wonder what would happen if I just forced myself to sit in front of a screen and write, choosing to ignore all other distractions.
Time will tell, I guess.
Peace y’all.
