There is peace in my home right now.
Crickets are chirping a late summer song. The dryer is humming, filling the farmhouse with the smell of perfumed fabric softener. There is evidence of the chaos of our day: Batman lays haphazardly on the television stand, three bunch socks rest on the floor in a triad, Minor’s bike helmet sits in the wrong room in the wrong space. There is a plate of grilled hotdogs that The Husband never got around to taking care of. There is a single, beautiful cookie waiting for me to consume it.
It’s 9:34 and I’ve finally found my quiet moment of the day. There is plenty to do, much that will be left undone until tomorrow. I can only focus on the crickets and a low, droning hum. And the click-clack of this keyboard, the glare of this screen, the guilt that I feel for being too mentally drained to write something more clever.
I suppose there are also the click-clack of this keyboard, the glare of this screen, the guilt that I feel for being too mentally drained to write something more clever. If only I’d paid more attention today, found the perfect narrative to tie together a full, intense day.
I’ve written a lot of Fail posts this summer. Not because of lack of words, but because of lack of bandwidth. Today was a day where there was not a moment to spare between one thing and the next. I was up at 6 and I’ve been moving ever since.
And now I’ve gotta rest. I’ve gotta wash the heavy-duty bug spray off of me before I get into bed. I’ve gotta get some aloe and oil into these locs, so desperate for a retwist. I’ve gotta sit with my Kindle and read a paragraph of something I didn’t write. Writer’s Digest is out and this month’s issue is dedicated to querying agents and going legit traditional publishing. As I’ll explain on Friday, this month’s issue could not be better timed.
I know that I’ve also gotta balance my time a bit better. I’m sorry, Dear Reader. School starts soon, regular schedules will return before you know it, and then the Failure will happen less often.
Will you forgive me one last time this season, Dear Reader? I thank you for your patience. I hope that there are crickets singing outside of your window right now. I hope the mundane hum of the place you call home make you sink into your chair a little deeper, make your breathing slow down a bit, make you forget your worries and cares. The night is for stillness. Let us be still, Dear Reader. The busy time comes again soon.
See you Friday for Quiet Thoughts.