Wednesday, July 7, 2010
That would be me. Whatever sliver of creative thought, interest in daily happenings, has seemingly been sweated out of my pores.
I do believe I am in the dog days of summer.
There can be no other explanation. I prefer sitting on the veranda in the morning with my coffee to sitting at the computer in my office. Afternoon? Puttering about, doing the necessary tasks of a life being lived. Somehow the effort of using my mind seems more than I can manage, so I fold laundry. In the evening I'm catching a cool breeze on the porch, mindless of anything but the heat.
I'm absent. The gray cells are not snapping. I'm well, but I'm dull. I'll be back when things start to whir again. Right now I have nothing but perspiration.