Today was one of those days. The whole expanse ahead of me, free for the taking, grasping, filling, experiencing, living —
and I sat, looked out the window, into the tea, ate another biscuit and twiddled my thumbs.
There are so many things to do, to create, but I forget to start any of them.
I’ve been sitting here, scrolling through a variety of sites, telling myself to close the computer, open the book, paint the canvas, knit the scarf, and yet here I am, dumbly reading about celebrity romances of the past, taking another buzzfeed quiz, telling myself just fifteen more minutes, just fifteen more minutes, just fifteen more minutes.
It’s been a whole day of fifteen minute increments and I haven’t done a single thing.
Even this post falls into the trap. What have I told you, if not the same thing over and over, altered slightly, but still dictated by commas, run on ideas, lists to better hone the sentiment?
I’m going to put on my slippers and get the mail.