Still staying home, social distancing and on holiday but my partner is not. The weather has been good but today it is raining. What should I do? It seems I am spoiled for choice. Read a novel, write another chapter of my own novel. Type up the poem I wrote weeks ago but am not sure about. Paint, draw, sweep leaves in the garden but no, they are too wet and blowy. Perhaps I could build clay models, experiment with sculpture. Under the sofa where the dog and cat hair drifts needs cleaning. There is a pile of paperwork that needs sorting. I could resist the urge to pick up some work, do some more analysis, research a new topic, learn how to digitise my teaching, listen to a podcast. I could read the news again but it is too depressing. I could write to old friends that I miss so much but do they want to hear from me I wonder? I can’t decide so I make some coffee, brush the dog, trail string for the cats, take photos with my phone of the flowers in the rain and write this. I think about all the time I have gained, and all that I have lost.
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