Things have been slow for me, of late, largely influenced by the weather turning sour here in NYC. Something about the quickly-stained white blanket under which the city has been finding itself these past weeks induces something to move towards hibernation.
I have mixed feelings about it.
There is pleasure in remaining abed on such days as this, when schools are closed and so I need not report to work. There is ease in simply being, enjoying the company about me and not worrying overmuch about doing, well, anything.
But then again, there is always much to do, some of it well-suited to such days as this. And I know that I have quite enough to take care of; I really ought to be about it.
Hardly a new notion, that.
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