Some Days.

Some days are for doing and some days are thinking. Thinking about doing. Or not doing.

I think I'm having a thinking day and I'm thinking about all sorts of things I'm not doing. Or things I will do. Might do. Should do.

I have so much to do. I have floors to mop, walls to paint, mosaic vans to finish...hell, I have art to do for a festival coming up in less than two months. I just cannot get motivated.

I think I have reached a true period of exhaustion. I have play days and work days, more work days than play days unfortunately. And it hit me this morning like a ton of proverbial bricks.

I just want to crawl into a nice, warm cave and sleep, with my feet up on pillows and surrounded by snoring dogs. It's my day off, luckily, but I still really, really need to be back on task. Instead, I'm pouring out feelings in a blog, doing everything I can possibly do not to do anything.

I feel the need to justify my actions - or non-actions - and really shouldn't. I work hard for my time off, and deserve to do whatever makes me happy. Yet, there is the nagging refrigerator that needs to be really cleaned, the studio floor is covered in doggy footprints from the damp weather and did I mention the pile of laundry sitting on the floor, all sorted but yet all unwashed.

But, did I also mention how delightful I find the squirrels, squabbling over a few peanuts, and how beautifully bright the male cardinals are, flitting about munching on sunflower seeds? And how damned good it feels just to sit, I mean just really sit, and rest.

And I'm imagining my studio, redone with open ceiling structure and bead-board walls. I'm thinking how nice it would be to have old-fashioned jalousy windows back in the house. I thinking about paint colors for the outside of my home, and where on earth I could plant a grapefruit tree where it would still get enough sun to thrive, with my back yard filled up with a pool. I'm wondering if I should groom my potted plants, edge the driveway or mow the yard. And there is still the matter of the refrigerator..and I really should be cleaning and organizing the damned closets, what very few of them there are.

And of course, I'm steps from the ocean, and it's churning and churning with the winds, still chilly from the last cold front, and the salt spray would turn my freshly-washed hair into a rat's nest. Oh, and the marina, I could do with trip to the sailboat, to return the sheets I've washed, and pick up the dirty towels.

So much to do and yet here I linger...