Ah, yes, feeling freshly uninspired today.
Stretch, wiggle fingers, scratch…coffee. Welcome to just another day made special by an arbitrary calendar.
I guess last night was somewhat special. Nearly sliced off the tip of my thumb making dinner. Tended the wounds of my little man whose ribs bounced off a nice tall rock behind the house. Moved a buddy over a block and up 20 narrow stairs. Found 20 bucks and gave it away. Watched Mel Brooks’ “The Producers,” (mostly unfunny), yawned a lot, nodded off and went to bed just before midnight.
My wife’s phone rang at midnight (her mother), our only real signal that the New Year had arrived.
Woke up to the sound of Nintendo zombies groaning for brains. Boys arguing, one defiantly resisting his mother.
There’s always the ceiling. Still there, watching.
Candy cane, strudel, biscuit, cereal breakfast. Typing.
Inspired? Yes, like catching a glimpse of the great mystery and a tiny fart escapes in a surprising, giddy squeak.