Heavy rain in the morning dark woke me. A little bit of lightning and thunder. Old coffee in my cup and the hours are too thin to hold everything I need them to.
Today is a work day. I open the store which means I would have had to have gotten up at 4AM to get any kind of writing done before heading in, but I did not. I am thinking about the last two days, drinking old coffee and watching the time. I made a promise in my personal journal to bring my best mind and focus and self to the job today. I will have a chiropractic visit afterwards because I haven’t seen him in weeks. I will come home and make dinner and leave what’s left for the rest of the people in this house who also live here. And then I am going to close the door and come back to the little story that wants me to finish. I want to see how it ends. If she will stay with Mr. Darwin or if her dreams will carry her out the front door with a smile because she was hungry enough to find the rest of the world. State a goal for the story, then? Finish the first rough draft. I think there’s enough now to do so.
Till then… cardinals are pipping outside the window. Trucks roll by loudly on damp asphalt. And this wasn’t such a bad way to begin a morning, looking forward to a writing night instead of a writing day. Maybe another storm will roll through while I’m at the store so I can watch it wide awake instead of barely conscious.