I suppose they can’t all be red-letter days littered with confetti, drowning in champagne, Pomp and Circumstance booming in the background, days when I KNOW down in my bones that the universe really IS conspiring to shower me with blessings... Days when my heart is body surfing at a Pearl Jam concert, days when my brain is off relaxing somewhere on the beaches of south France… Days when I am not languishing for an hour of private time with my husband or a couple of hours with my novel, or vise versa for that matter.
Whiiiiine. Whiiiine. Whiiiiine. The sun is shining almost as bright as my son’s eyes on Christmas morning; and now all that snow we just received only yesterday is quickly melting away. Meanwhile, I’m behind my desk making maps and cleaning up puddles of mud… MUD, for lack of a better word.
I should have brought a tape recorder with me while driving to work today because I had some very intriguing dialogue running through my head… dialogue so intense that I felt as though I’d been beamed right into my parking space 25 usually-long miles away from home. It was chilling. But, alas, I’ve lost my tape recorder and now the conversations that were residing in my head are slowly fading due to my lack of an hour, just one, to capture those wispy, elusive voices that may as well have been gnats or fireflies or Tori Amos.
So I suppose I should finish wet-vacking this sloppy puddle of a day since I wasn’t smart enough to not lose my tape recorder. Maybe then I can start to see the hidden red letter parts sprinkled with confetti… or shredded maps, as it were.
Whiiiiine!
I bought one of those little taperecorders once, and lost mine, too.
ReplyDeleteWhat IS it with those things?