Saturday, April 3, 2010

It's Saturday because we're on the couch at 7 a.m.. The nagging sense that I'm already behind gets more pronounced as the song birds get louder, grass is suddenly green and pieces of wood keep getting added to Sweet Pea. At some point, I ought to get outside and put rope together, paint buoys, groom up my traps and get some clue about what I'm doing. My yellow pad with the last winter list still has many lines not crossed out. Winter things aren't done. Spring things getting in arrears in a hurry. Overlapping wedges of shoulds and wegottas. Perhaps it's best to just burn that page- ceremonially revoke winter's leasehold on the list cortex in my brain. These uncertainties are answered for me as I hear my son stirring.

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