A cloudless day, with light as sharp as a cut gem, the air still. I took a walk, almost three miles, not fast, just a plodding walk, this step, that step, the ground gets covered. Once again I see that I can do it, and there are hunting clothes hanging on the line and more to be hung and why hasn't the Computer Doctor emailed me and I suppose I shall have to email them.
Or call them.
Okay. I just did. They called the distribution place this morning to see what's going on. I thanked the guy on the phone and he said, "That's not a problem," and I wonder why people get so upset when they thank someone and they reply "no problem." Seems fine to me.
So many things to get our panties in a wad about. Especially these days. Or probably all days.
Humans are humans and as much as we opine about how much better it was in the old days, that is never the truth. Sure, things get better and things get worse but if we were worrying about the plague in the next town over, we probably wouldn't be so apt to take offense when someone says, "no problem" rather than "you're welcome."
And so forth.
So much to do around here and I just don't seem to have the heart for it today.
It's one of those days. I'll do what truly needs to be done and let the rest slide between my fingers and just try to be mindful of the blooming sasanqua, the red passion flower, the way the light travels across the yard, the changing of the shadows, the smell of the air, the rustle of the fallen pecan leaves as the hens scratch through them, the warmth of the sun, the coolness of the shade, the bizarre and mysterious magic of the feeling of stasis when actually, we are hurling and whirling and spinning and dancing and plodding and speeding and dying and being born/reborn/born/reborn with all of it every instant and second, part of it all, no matter how it feels.