Since coming home a week ago we’ve managed to do just that, plus taking walks and watching the Olympics. Thursday we had a backyard party, inviting neighbors from the seven or eight houses surrounding us. We’re so lucky--they’re all helpful, friendly, down-to-earth people. Not one of them blasts rock music or collects junk cars in their front yard.
Summertime means easy living. Yet every now and then a little voice whispers that I should be doing something. Thinking about the next big project now that the novel is finished . . . weeding the front path . . . doing the dirty laundry from vacation . . . creating a photo essay on English gardens for our Garden Club website. The little voice reminds me that days are slipping by and I’m not showing a profit.
Frankly, I had to rouse myself even to write this blog. It's not as if responsibilities disappear from view. The basement is calling to say that it needs spiffing up. I’m just not answering the phone.