Bored at work.  It’s my fault… 

C’mon Mike, dive into a project—  Trying to write through it.  Went for walk in vineyard and took I don’t know how many pictures.  Posted some, saving rest for later, for I don’t know what.  Seems I don’t know much right now— what to do, how to stay busy, how to avoid boredom, what else this week wants to throw at me.  Need to wake early tomorrow morning, or at least try.  That I can’t fail at, right?  And by “try” I mean set my alarm for ‘4:00AM’ and at the horrible least sit up straight to turn it off then go back to bed.  I can do that, no?  Going to.  Wish the rain would arrive early.  Felt like it was going to rain on my walk, right there in the Rhône blocks.  But nothing.  Not a drop.  I just obsessed over the grapes left behind, not picked, neglected but now by some obsessive wandering writer adored.

Co-worker told me she woke this morning at 5 to work out.  Going to one-up such by rising at 4.  Just hearing the alarm and doing ten pushups, throwing myself into writing and having three pages of salable writing before Alice and the babies wake.  Had the last of my coffee, now I’m feeling sleepy.  Is it wearing off already?  Must be the two tastes I had when I went to the tasting room, a ’14 Rockpile Zin and a ’13 Alexander Valley Syrah.  Know what I’m having a glass of when I’m off-clock.  That Syrah.  Hope there’s some left.  That’s always the variable, how much was poured.. how much is left.  Is there some for ME?  At least I’m not bored anymore, with these wined thoughts, sipping a formidable glass of anything red, sitting in one of those sofa chairs like a tourist not worrying about anything but the wine under my senses.

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