I am grateful that it’s Monday.
It means another week is about to begin. One, to paraphrase Anne of Green Gables, with no mistakes in it yet.
A positive response from a publisher could come in the mail or to my inbox. I might have a great writing week.
And, even after six years, I am still tickled that I don’t have to go to a job somewhere. My work is here. My office is in the living room and I can gaze out the window and see trees and birds, and even the occasional human going about its business.
I don’t have to dress up for work. Theoretically, I don’t have to get dressed at all, but if someone were to come to the door it’s best I be covered.
I can drop everything and bake a batch of brownies if the spirit moves me. I’ve done that in the past.
We had the computer in the basement when first started writing and I’d be down there for hours, tapping away. One day around 3 o’clock I decided I’d had such a good writing day that I deserved a reward so I went upstairs and made some brownies.
My husband can’t tolerate much chocolate so I did the decent, loving thing and ate most of them myself.
Anyway, another week is in front of me. I can write, or not. I can read or go for walks or a bike ride weather permitting.
I can take time to meditate or do a self-hypnosis and allow the altered state to carry me gently and logically into a really good nap.
I’m well and healthy and have a good life and a new week has opened to enjoy it.
How about you?
How We Spoil Our Cats, December 2017 Edition
2 hours ago