Another day is coming to a close. Quietly.
I spent most of today doing computer work. Not exciting stuff, but necessary. I got what I think are the last edits of my Bigfoot manuscript done. I'm hoping to have news I can announce soon from the publisher. I also tied up some details on a few other projects and started planning some new events.
Now, sitting on my couch, watching Kamala Harris deal with Donald Trump's exaggerations and lies, I'm ready to draw the curtain on today.
Billy Collins relaxes in the evening . . .
In the Evening
by: Billy Collins
The heads of roses begin to droop.
The bee who has been hauling her gold
all day finds a hexagon in which to rest.
In the sky, traces of clouds,
the last few darting birds,
watercolors on the horizon.
The white car sits facing a wall.
The horse in the field is asleep on its feet.
I light a candle on the wood table.
I take another sip of wine.
I pick up an onion and a knife.
And the past and the future?
Nothing but an only child with two different masks.
Sometimes, as the sun is going down, I take inventory of what I've accomplished during the day. I'm a list maker. Every morning, I sit down and meditate on need tos, like tos, and hope tos. I need to finish this project. I'd like to get a start on that project. I hope to plan out those projects.
In the gloaming of dusk, I usually find myself assessing. No hope to planned. No like to started. Only half of my need tos completed. And, I feel like a failure. I've had people tell me to narrow the scope of my lists. One coworker told me to put only three things on my list every morning. By doing that, this person said, I can avoid the feeling of abject loserhood.
Today, there were nine things on my to do list, including all the need, like, and hope tos. I was able to check off almost every item. After I'm done typing this post, I will have completed everything. Plus, I get to watch the Felon in Chief be humiliated.
Saint Marty counts this day as a win.
