supper is on the stove and a load of dirty clothes gently spins through my washing machine as i sit down to write tonight. they’re two small essential things to daily living: good food and clean clothes.
there’s a stack of mail next to my macbook that will need my attention sooner or later, but for now, i’m focused on writing down a few thoughts.
…but that’s the problem: i don’t feel like i have anything worth sharing. life marches on, oh yes, but it’s marching at a pace that makes me feel as though i can’t keep up, as though i will surely fall behind and fall out of the race (i keep reminding myself: “one step at a time, one step at a time…”)
this “mood” or whatever you want to call it has become a familiar acquaintance. sticking with me until i go to bed in the evening and waking up with me at the start of each new day, this feeling of, of, well, i don’t know what this feeling is, but it’s here and here for the long-term, it seems. how i’ll ever make it through this year’s nanowrimo is beyond me, but try i must.
the kitchen timer sounds. supper is ready: organic garlic and basil pasta sauce simmering on the stove and some noodles that i found from the pantry that i had forgotten about. it’s by no means anything fancy, but it will do.