Much to be done.

Still no decaf. I begin to plot my morning with the assurance I’ll have time to swing by the market to pay $4.60 for a large cup of coffee.

Meal plan done. Groceries ordered and set to be delivered. Now, a little bit of time to breathe.

I am not late after all.

“She detested fashionable books and knew that time would never allow her to keep up to date.”

It is short and sweet but feels incomplete—nevertheless, a good way to spend a few hours in the shade.

I wonder if anyone else feels this way or thinks these things. I sense the shortness of time that’s left. I am thinking too far ahead.

But what’s with the sneakers and the socks?

Losing light.

I should have just driven myself; I’m not getting any sleep anyway.