|Nothing what so ever to do with any of the words on this page.|
I just like the look of it.
As I write this, the laundry waits. As do the breakfast dishes and the other various and sundry tasks that fall into my lot this morning.
I was born and bred on accomplishing household tasks and while I bask in the glow of a washed an polished home, I still find myself, literally, aching to place these words upon the page. (I would have said paper in the days of my youth, but paper no longer captures my words before they fly off into nether regions of my mind, a computer screen is the vehicle at hand.)
I have begun stories, too numerous to keep track of, which never seem to have a ending. Perhaps it is because these stories are in progress. I am waiting, watching, and wondering along with everyone else, on how it will all work out. OR if it will all work out.
Which maybe exactly why I keep plodding along, attempting in between loads of laundry, to capture thoughts before they evaporate.