It’s cold here today — even more so than it normally is in the spring. The clouds are indiscernible, resembling more of a blanket cast over our heads. There was drizzle on the patio this afternoon as well, and I willingly pulled a thick sweatshirt over my head wishing I had an excellent book to cozy up with on the couch instead of in bed at the long end of a day.
I’ve been thinking quite a bit about my days lately — this business of getting up and sort of “hop-to-it” attitude of being in front of my Mac. It’s been over two years now that I’ve not been an active member of the employed crowd, and yet I’ve created this sort of routine quite by accident. It’s living and breathing, too, because it’s evolved into more than what it was even a year ago. I’m not entirely comfortable with that.
But here I am, still.
Wondering and thinking.
Mulling over the options and possibilities.
Thinking.
You thought I’d given up, hadn’t you?
Not a chance. In fact, I’m trying to figure out how to get a hold of a few more hours a day, still. Just to do with them as I please. Like a shell you might find on the beach and turn over in your hand, wondering what you might find.
Like that.
If you’re reading this, I appreciate you.
Some day, maybe I’ll figure out how to write here again.
Truly.