Watercolor painting of coffee cup with steam rising.
This morning, I don’t even know why I’m sitting here at the desk with this screen up on my computer. I don’t really have anything to say, or anything worth saying, and come to think of it, that’s been going on for a while now.
I started out this morning, as I usually do, reading through my RSS feeds on Reeder, but quickly found myself hitting the “Mark All Read” button without so much as skimming the individual posts.
I noted in my notebook that today’s adventures were brought to you in part by the words “melancholy” and “whimsy,” two words that seem as disparate as possible. And yet, for me today, they might be connected. Maybe a certain amount of whimsy just for its own sake would be the cure, however temporary, for the foreboding in my mind these days.
(And maybe, just maybe, all two of you dear readers might want to close our your browser, and forget this post ever happened. It’s not getting any better at present.)
In fact, this post may not really happen at all. It may just be the latest attempt to do the morning pages. I notice I’m currently at 198 words, on the way to 300, and then I might stop without hitting the “Publish” button. Some things might be better left in draft mode, you know?
On a positive note, it was good to catch up with The (Big) Boy for a few minutes yesterday. There’s something about tacos and chips and enchiladas that make things better for a moment. And for some reason, I love hearing The (Big) Boy talk (OK, gush!) about The (Little) Boy. I really want the picture of The (Little) Boy standing (yes…standing!) at the library window. That they’re taking The (Little) Boy to the library warms my heart, and reminds me that I need to get there myself, for a change of scenery and a change of outlook.
