drops

In the kitchen, rain is falling on the skylight-- a comforting midwinter patter; a perfect song (if you get to stay inside). It's bright outside, dark inside, and I'm wearing a Grinch-green sweater. Reading the news to procrastinate, and wondering why I'm procrastinating at all.
I've actually looked forward to these slow days of early January; days with plenty of time to get the work done and have hours remaining for other creative endeavors. Yet here I sit, puttering about with intangibles.
I think the puttering is itself an "other creative endeavor," though it's hard to convince myself of it.

I am easily daunted by lists of my own making.