I ran into writer's block yesterday. At... I don't know... 7:00'ish. I sat by the laptop, and tried to blog. But nothing came to mind. A few hours before that we had visited Dad for a few minutes. We stood outside, in the cold, looking at Dad on the other side of the window. We couldn't talk, really. And yet it felt good just to see Dad.
And maybe all this COVID stuff just takes away time to really sit and think. It's all we talk about.
After seeing Dad, we picked up a few groceries, came home, had supper. Then we decided to go for a bike ride. I pumped up the tires and checked the brakes. Anita's back brake is seized. And it felt good to know that I had something to think about besides work or COVID.
Today, another now-becoming-normal day, was like yesterday. I stayed home. Did my work. Bumped up our internet. Called her a day at 4:15, cracked open a beer, and sat in the recliner and read Dickens. And now I blog... with nothing deep to write about because I didn't have time to think deep.
I miss that.
When folks ask how I am, I tell them "just fine", and tell them that this staying-at-home thing feels kind of freeing. It's nice being able to take a break and wander around the yard. What I haven't done is stop and smell the roses. Or to see the forest for the trees.
I hope tomorrow I can make time to see and to think...
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