I am feeling impatient. I have been working all day and I am now ready to stop for the night. I don’t want to write this evening but instead would prefer to head upstairs, get ready for bed and watch television. I want to turn my brain off and let my body sink into my warm covers. But I have my twenty minutes of writing to do and I know that I’ll feel bad if I don’t do it. I also don’t want to break my habit of blogging daily so here I am, sitting in the den, feeling impatient to hurry this process up so I can end my day.
Cordelia, our Corgie, is curled up on the couch across from me. She is waiting patiently for me to finish. My teacup is empty on the table beside me, ready to be taken to the sink to be washed. Cars are racing up and down the street outside, people clearly eager to either get home, go to dinner or head somewhere other than where they are, just like me. Ray has just come downstairs as well, walking through the room, ready for me to come upstairs to join him.
I feel calmer now just getting those words down on the page. I can breathe deeper as well. I am not the only person in the world who is tired after a long day and who just wants to go home, put on his/her pj’s and celebrate the close of the day. I am clearly only one of many.
I can hear a steady clicking coming from the dryer as some metal button hits the sides of the drum. I can taste the Meyer lemon that flavored my hot tea I drank thirty minutes ago. I can see Ray’s new weighted brown blanket the kids gave him for Christmas as a comfort gift folded on the stool next to the bay window. I feel the heaviness of my left leg crossed over my right knee as I sit in the armchair where I do all my work with students over the day. Welcome to “Be Here Now,” my world at this moment on this evening of January 22.
On that note, I believe I can wrap up this quick write. I will admit to feeling calmer, quieter and more content as a result of forcing myself to sit down and do my writing. I suppose there is something to the therapeutic value of writing even for something as small as impatience. Whatever the case, I have now completed my task so I will bide you adieu with a much less agitated attitude.
I am happy to rendezvous again tomorrow; however, right now, you know where I’m going and what I’m going to do.
Over and out.