Why can't I get the hang of this? How hard can it be to accomplish what I want to and still have time? How come I get caught up in reading emails, blogs, and Facebook instead of writing? Hmm? Let's see, what did I do today? I worked out when I got up, read the paper and did the crossword. I got my car to the mechanic on time and waited while the oil was changed. Drove with Durwood to the mall and walked 2.5 times around. Stopped at the grocery on the way home. Ate lunch and knit a few sock rounds. Dropped Durwood back at the garage to get his van while I went to my chiro appointment. Zipped by the grocery on the way home to get the forgotten lime. Came back here to my desk and burned a downloaded novel to cds, and instead of writing I read my emails, toured the blogs, and got on Facebook for a bit. The sun went down while I frittered the afternoon away. It was only once supper was done that I came back here and wrote what you see below. Reading what I did all day, I guess I can understand why I'm so late getting to my writing. I want more hours in the day! Please?
January 5--Ruliente Coffie. As I look down I can see her scalp exposed in the part straight down the center of her head. She loves having braids so her hair isn't tangled or in the way, but that little stripe of skin seems so fragile. I want to protect her, keep her from harm so I make sure she's covered in sunscreen or insect repellent. I insist that she take a sweater when I'm chilled and I suspect that she ditches the umbrella as the bus stop when I make her take it on cloudy days. I can overlook a trembling lower lip and tears welling in those big brown eyes, but that narrow strip of scalp in my undoing. Watching her walk away, skipping down the path to meet the neighbor kids and walk in a giggling pack to the bus stop, it takes all my self-control not to call her back or rush out and cover her little naked part with a hat.
Odd. Very odd. You gets what comes, I guess. Sleep well.