Pre-Storm

Today I woke up and went off to the old homestead to do some gardening. It was a quiet morning, and even the mosquitoes were doped, lazy, static. The flowers did perk up a bit when I watered them, but everything else wasn't up to much. Or mulch.

I got home and did some busy-work. Tinkered at the margins, mapped out stuff that would make my audience less bored tomorrow. Reframed my ideas, read through my writing, played with the weak ashy bits of my discontent.

I had two three four coffees. One had some chocolate in it. Another one had two kinds of ground mixed in. I had work to do, and yet there was nothing to be done.

Tonight, I am off to a dinner that is not of my own choosing, nor my own desiring. But tomorrow will be a better day. Or at least, there will be snakes to fight and crocodiles to wrestle in the mudpit of academia.