Wow. I am just not myself today.
I'm doing my normal Friday activities. I tidied. I went to a cafe and wrote while drinking coffee. I made some progress. Especially considering I started from scratch with a blank page.
I stopped in time to go to the Farmer's Market. I bought produce and snacky-stuff for some friends coming over tonight. It just wasn't fun. I feel bleah. Bored, and tired. Wanting to be left alone by the people around me. Not at all like my usual self. Perhaps it's the weather. We vaulted from cold rain straight to brassy heat in the high 90s. It feels like Spring just got skipped. Perhaps it's just accumulated fatigue.
All I know is I drove past three yard sales, and I just didn't care. I didn't even want to buy anything. That's not like me at all!!
I didn't even enjoy grocery shopping. And usually that's my favorite.
While driving, I was thinking about writing. Imagine having a sense of the aesthetics of the written word. Imagine noticing whether a sentence is elegant or clunky, whether it sings or stumbles, whether it is lithe or wordy. Imagine having to have that on your mind. Like there's not enough other stuff in life to keep us occupied! Caring about writing -- "it's a blessing... and a curse..."