I have been going in all different directions, this week. 'Twarn't just the opera kept me from my pajama-clad activities, here (although, if I were to show up over here at my folks' house in my jammies, they'd take me to the hospital). I've been all over this end of the state, these past few days, with my bestest friend. We keep going shopping for stuff we don't need & can't afford. It's a dangerous habit.
But at least we have fun.
And, I don't get all ticked off at the universe for its having foisted Dick Durbin and Teddy Kennedy upon us. All that stuff goes right into the mental wastecan.
On the other hand, heading off to play all afternoon at those home repair/construction warehouse stores, art & craft supply stores, and discount department stores lays on a pile of guilt that I haven't finished peeling away the century of wallpaper from the walls of my front hallway, I haven't finished building shelves in the upstairs storage rooms, I haven't finished tilling up my garden to ready it for spring, and I haven't finished the story book I started to write for my youngest nephew, back a few weeks after he was born (8 years ago). I'm sure I'm forgetting a few things, but those are the big ones on my conscience, today.
I've also neglected to play with the porch kitties, this week. It's been warm and nice enough for me to stay out, but I'm not home long enough to dangle string or roll those plastic Easter egg things with the jingle bells in 'em. They've had to amuse themselves, and they've done very nicely, at that. They've spilled my ice-melt box all over the porch carpet, knocked over the table and one of the chairs, and shredded all the little fuzzy stuffed toys I left for them. There are bits of fluff all around the front door. And they've blended very nicely with this morning's snow. Just not photogenically. Ah, well.
I guess, now that we're not out playing again, I should pretend I'm working on something serious. Maybe I should call on DithyRambo, my inner poet, this afternoon?
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