Email. There are 80 unresolved emails in my In Box. I may be over-complicating my answers.
In Box. There’s no actual Box other than in my mind. Just like Windows. There’s no Window, but we’ve transmogrified and assimilated.
Wires. There’s a tangle of them on, around, under and within sight of my desk. They’re like heavy duty, nightmare puppet strings.
Dust mixed with left over flower pollen. Dog hair tumbleweeds.
iPhone – laptop speakers – Pandora – Billie Holiday station … Dream a Little Dream of Me
The sun is streaming cold and bright through the Girl Glass balls hanging from ribbons in the window making refracted light patterns on the opposite wall.
Ron’s painting of Elliott, “Black Dog Winter”, bounds through drifts that feel like Promise and Adventure.
An orange down quilt is wadded up on the love seat where I read my mystery novel at 4:26 am until Ron came and got me to go back to bed.
Good morning. What will I do with these gifts today?
Susan Scot Fry
Update… The most significant thing about enumerating the gifts in front of me is the transformative process from growly bear to happy bear. These are a few of my favorite things….