Ahh...the wide open promise of a full day off to myself. I bought a new book yesterday that is calling my name. But it's being pushed out and over shouted by the calls from the kitchen floor, the laundry, the rugs, the windows, the stacks of "stuff" that have once again started to accumulate around the house, the dawgs who need walking and playing with, and the pile of paper from work that I brought home with me, just in case I had time on my day "off".
What is it about our society today that we have forgotten how to relax? I remember reading a poem once that asked whether in thirty years anyone was going to remember that you had dust bunnies under your bed. I like that question. Maybe I can get them to remember me by naming my dust bunnies and adopting them as pets.
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