This morning I woke at sunrise, picked granadillas, walked my dogs, flipped through the Saturday Star, read an article about the state of our nation and shook my head, met a man named Egbert, ate freshly baked rye straight out the oven, flirted with the chef, came home to help my son buy flowers for his first ever date, chatted to him about love, sex, and condoms, read two pages of a book, squeezed some oranges, chatted to my Dad on the phone and am about to put on a face mask and have a bubble bath.
So much and it’s only 12 pm.
Maybe this afternoon I’ll finally brush my hair.
Write a novel.
Have a groovy weekend, y’all.