It’s best not to write sometimes although who benefits from such abstinence is often questionable. I speak from decades of experience. But, of course, we do as we please. After all, I’ve written this. It’s just a little semi-rant. And I may post it.
I want to post this because some days are not romantically poetic. Some days don’t have a beginning and a middle and an end. Some days getting out of bed is a horrible mistake – or so it can seem at any one given moment during some given day.
I’m not sad or regretful. I’ve thought/worked through all that sort of navel-gazing stuff long ago. When you’re almost 66, one just figures stuff out. It’s not pretty but… some days getting out of bed is a horrible mistake.