Something to Write About
Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
This whole life in a cup of coffee. My whole life could get slightly more organized if the coffee was just sitting right there. Steaming.
Someone out there is doing the exact same thing: wishing the coffee was ready, tempted to wake her snoring husband to make it for her because making it, ugh. She is spoiled rotten.
My cat has a small injury above his right eye. He just wants to stay and play/fight when the dog attacks him. Fluffy and tough. That’s my cat.
Can we just get to the part where the votes are counted? I don’t want to wish away days, but we have been standing in this line for eons. It’s not moving. Yet it is. Tuesday will be over before I know it.
Reading books aloud to kids while wearing a mask is oxygen depletion. My throat is sore like I was cheering at a concert. Whistling through my fingers. Getting beer spilled on me. Remember those crowds, sharing an enormous energetic experience through music and joy and so much pain?
Here is something to write about: my dad has been gone 6 months. I almost called him yesterday. He’d want to know a little bit about school during coronavirus. He might be wondering what we did with his ashes. He’d most certainly want to hear all about my puppy.
What is burning in your psyche today?
Samantha Lazar 2020