There are millions or maybe several things I should be doing today. But I don’t want to. There is a sink full of dishes that require my attention and I ignore them. How did they get there anyway? I wasn’t paying attention. My mind has been elsewhere. Aloof. Daydreaming. Did I tell you that my vehicle went kaput? I should do something about that, too. But I really don’t want to. Not yet. I’m admiring it for saying no. For now. There’s a basket of laundry that frowns at me. Laundry always frowns. I’ve tried to view it as a liturgical holy work, but something about the way it scowls me down, daily that won’t allow it. Holy things don’t scowl. So I ignore that, too. Today is the kind of day that should slow down and crawl on it’s hands and knees because that’s kind of the way I’m feeling right now. On my knees. I just want to languish and get rained on. Maybe it will rain today. Maybe if I were on a train with a cup of tea and nowhere to go and I was talking to someone about music and art and poetry and how it lays the soul bare, child, and it was raining, my day would be called something better than a day. Maybe it would be called decadent. However, I should go check and see why my insufferable dog is in the backyard barking. Probably at a turtle or a snail or something else that moves lovely and measured and slow. There are things I should be doing today. But I don’t want to.
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