December 29, 2011

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  Today was the sort of day where nothing is right. I slept later than I would have liked and didn't accomplish the things I'd hoped. I couldn't focus on a perfectly good book. I started three different blog posts and deleted each one. I am not bored, but I'm restless. I've spent a lot of days in a small space.

  Tomorrow, though, I will leave the house early, and I will bring my camera and my journal, and I will drive my favourite gigantic truck and listen to the radio and spend time with nice people. Thank goodness for that.  

  It has been a lovely break, really. I have spent it doing lots of quiet things - I've been reading and taking walks and a few days ago I started painting. Painting! I haven't really painted much of anything in years, but it's been so enjoyable lately. It's nice to have time for these things. In the process, I have been working my way through the Gilmore Girls (for the eighty-seventh time) and have given myself some mean neck-cramps, but it has been so very worth it. 

  Today, though, I am restless. No attempts to read or write or paint or work amounted to anything, and that is driving me nuts. The nice part is that nothing I need to do is terribly pressing. The not so nice part is that I would like to scream into my beloved prairie abyss.  

  And I suppose that is all I have to say. In six days I will be back on the other side of the country, and I'm okay with that.

  h. 

   

  • 11:14 pm
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