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rejectomorphIt just feels wrong to be at the computer in the daytime. I tried today, but a squirrel hopped into the mulberry tree and looked at me through my window with a look that said Why are you in that dingy cave when you could be outside like me? Then a bird landed on a branch and chirped Come out! Come out! Come out! And Portia kept hopping onto the windowsill and looking from the outside back to me and giving her plaintive take me out mew. I finally turned the computer off and went out. I couldn't concentrate anyway. Plenty of time for the computer after nightfall, I thought.
So the morning was pleasant and the afternoon was bright and serene and the daylight was gone before I knew it. But then the nights are so short when you wake up before nine o'clock in the morning. What can I do with this tattered end of the day? Nothing. Nothing but this. The journal, like some stray beast wandering into the yard at my bedtime, gets hasty scraps.
So the morning was pleasant and the afternoon was bright and serene and the daylight was gone before I knew it. But then the nights are so short when you wake up before nine o'clock in the morning. What can I do with this tattered end of the day? Nothing. Nothing but this. The journal, like some stray beast wandering into the yard at my bedtime, gets hasty scraps.
