Jack complaining, wanting something. Henry crying again.

Melissa going to run an errand, my run delayed.  Frustrations clogging ability to judge and move… then another fly in room.  Goddamn it, this is the symbol of WFH covid composition.

Finding time to self wherever I can.  That’s the story, the composition.  Composing self enough to compose.

Espresso shot, may need another.  Ran 4 miles at lunch, came home to returned contract.  Emma now watching a cartoon on my work phone, behind me on couch.  She’s happy and feeling better, so I don’t quibble.

Meeting in 12 minutes about a little re-organizing in our department.

Now a neighbor outside talking loud on phone, on her patio.  Next house over, then kids in street playing and chirping and barking.  No quiet, except during hours I often squander.  Been thinking about it the entire day.

New Month, new plan….  Espresso gone.  Make another, I self order.

Poem written earlier, not sure I like it, or how now at this point in the day I’m inclined to start complaining like Jack was earlier.  Maybe I need a beer, or glass of something.  Not much wine in house.  Should I go get something?  No, that $20-$30 could be spent on business…

New noise, garbage truck.  Forgot today, garbage day.