If I do have the day to myself, I’m spending it here… music and cleaning. Maybe taking myself to coffee later, after a needed nap. Spent night on that goddamn mattress again. No serious complaint here, just venting from a sleep lack, drought. I did it for Jack, so entirely justified and in my gratitude net.
Coffee and meditation to what sprinkles are still falling, which is not many. What I could get done today for the work week, not thinking about it. Not today. I go back and forth with the sales story…
Journals…. Visiting old ones at some point today. I’d like to. Start to wrap this book finally, and write in the new journal, hand and ink, for about an hour or more if I can.
Pile of receipts staring at me. Try and touch them later.
Unmotivated this morning. To write, I mean. My thinking has a higher voltage than normal, but the want to write just isn’t with me like every morning first thing.
The lack of communication with anyone is relieving. Looking at the coffee in the Emma cup, I call it. Time is not on my side, or against me. It just is.