Week 1
The echo of a small dog's bark rings through my head. My bed is warm and comfortable, but the pounding in my head needs to stop. The cat snuggles in closer, clawing happily into my arm. I move my arm; he gets even closer. I think he would crawl inside of me if it were a possibility. The computer's fan buzzes louder, like it knows I should be writing, not peering out the window at the snow covered yard. My daughter and her dog running in the mix of dirt and slush, wave at me, too happy to realize they are now wet and cold and covered in a fresh layer of mud. I turn back to the small computer warming up my legs, stare blankly at the fresh document. It anxiously waits for me to transform it into a brilliant piece of literature. Sorry "untitled document," it won't be today.
The echo of a small dog's bark rings through my head. My bed is warm and comfortable, but the pounding in my head needs to stop. The cat snuggles in closer, clawing happily into my arm. I move my arm; he gets even closer. I think he would crawl inside of me if it were a possibility. The computer's fan buzzes louder, like it knows I should be writing, not peering out the window at the snow covered yard. My daughter and her dog running in the mix of dirt and slush, wave at me, too happy to realize they are now wet and cold and covered in a fresh layer of mud. I turn back to the small computer warming up my legs, stare blankly at the fresh document. It anxiously waits for me to transform it into a brilliant piece of literature. Sorry "untitled document," it won't be today.
