It’s that flipping time in the afternoon where I feel the lowest in energy. I just want to sink into my loveseat and bask in the sunshine. I want to close my eyes and not think about doing. But here I am, sitting in front of my keyboard. I’m trying to tap myself alive. Now I got that song Staying Alive playing in my head. I’m trying to strut in my chair like the Bee Gees. Whatever works! Have to be resourceful on lazy days. Or I could just give in and be lazy. Nothing wrong with that except that it will be harder to climb out of that hole later. So here’s to strutting and staying alive, however I can.
My dishes are stacked in the sink to be dealt with later. I want to sit here in the sun while it’s shining. It’s warmth is making me sleepy. I still got one eye opened. I’ve got my cup of tea. And Sheba’s barking on cue. No danger of falling asleep in front of the keyboard. I bribe her with a rawhide chew. It works like a charm. I have no magic charm on this cold Boxing Day. I just got the good old the day after blues. But not seriously. I feel a little like an over inflated balloon with some air out of it. Slightly deflated if you want to call it that.
It’s the accumulation of the year, the ups, downs and the mediocre. I feel much like a kid who is bored saying to his mom, There is nothing to do. Only I have too much to do but I don’t want to do it. I’m feeling kind of rebellious and pouty. It really doesn’t do me any good at this age. Not when I am the adult. So what I do is a little of this and that in between my pouts and struts. The hall and bathroom are vacuumed. Sheba is placated for awhile. I’ve worked a bit on two little art projects.
In an hour is the fur baby’s supper and her walk after. Maybe I can stir myself to deal with the dishes now. Then there’s the dining table to be tidied. I need to read the instructions on how to operate my new million dollar Bernina sewing machine. I’m not ready to lose interest already. I’m better than that. Aren’t I? But dang, it’s hard to stay alive!