Picking myself up this morning. I feel well. I rested well. I have ahead of me another day at the office. I notice myself addressing chores just a little slower than normal this morning. Which is fine. “Week fatigue” setting in. Everything is in it’s place.
I hate to say I don’t have much to say, but I am struggling to write something this morning. Something with a little substance. I’m drawing a blank. I’m settling into the new routine. I feel just fine and am preforming fine. I write a poem or two, the ideas and development of the stories are coming along as expected. In fact, maybe even a little better than expected. Work is work. I love the little lady I take care of, but she’s deteriorating. It’s sobering. At my facility I take care of my people and take care of them well. I’m on good terms with coworkers and management. I don’t know how, but evidently I am charming and well liked.
I’m thinking that if my life had an ’80’s movie theme to it. Right about now would be the part glossed over by the montage. Some rocking synthesizers, an easy up beat.
I’m gonna go write some poems now.