Sometimes the promise of a day is enormous.
In the first half hour, my bed is made, the dishwasher emptied, the cat fed and the litterbox cleaned.
My coffee is sublime, aromatic and richly dark.
Breakfast is solid and tasty, well balanced and healthy.
I look out the window and the day looks glorious, azure sky with fairytale clouds, my ferns undulating slowly in the breeze.
What should I do?
I have drawers full of clothes that might fit again. Should I try them all on?
My refrigerator needs refilling. I could shop for produce.
The patio needs sweeping, but there are some big bugs out there among the grass clippings.
The kitchen floor could use a good cleaning, but today is Sunday.
Sunday is a day of rest, right? I shouldn't squander it scrubbing floors.
Maybe I'll just spend it gathering thoughts.
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