All the things.
I want to write about all the things.
About a book I read last week called The Remains of the Day.
About visiting the west coast and the mountains and some delightful friends.
About the mundane days.
About my summer placement at a hospital and whether I'll become a spiritual care professional.
About the haircut I'm getting today.
About the encouraging words from my profs this semester.
About all the feelings that surprise me and overwhelm me and give me hope.
About our dog named Pig.
About our rooftop terrace and summer patios.
I have one hour before my haircut, and the to-do list is long. Schoolwork, housework, church work, creative work - there are all kinds of things to be done.
But I took the dog for a long walk anyway, down the street and across a bridge, and past a walk-a-thon, and up the hill and over another bridge, and beside the dogpark (not in it, since an incident earlier in the week), and home again. And I breathe more slowly, and my feet are filthy (that's what you get when you wear flip flops in the city) and they're a little bit sore (that's what you get when you steal your husband's too-big shoes), and the rest of me is tired at the end of a long week, but it's the good sort of tired, and it's warm out, and my feet are up now, and I'm going to wear a skirt today, and get my hair did, and then tackle all the things.
And I've got this song in my head.
I want to write about all the things.
About a book I read last week called The Remains of the Day.
About visiting the west coast and the mountains and some delightful friends.
About the mundane days.
About my summer placement at a hospital and whether I'll become a spiritual care professional.
About the haircut I'm getting today.
About the encouraging words from my profs this semester.
About all the feelings that surprise me and overwhelm me and give me hope.
About our dog named Pig.
About our rooftop terrace and summer patios.
I have one hour before my haircut, and the to-do list is long. Schoolwork, housework, church work, creative work - there are all kinds of things to be done.
But I took the dog for a long walk anyway, down the street and across a bridge, and past a walk-a-thon, and up the hill and over another bridge, and beside the dogpark (not in it, since an incident earlier in the week), and home again. And I breathe more slowly, and my feet are filthy (that's what you get when you wear flip flops in the city) and they're a little bit sore (that's what you get when you steal your husband's too-big shoes), and the rest of me is tired at the end of a long week, but it's the good sort of tired, and it's warm out, and my feet are up now, and I'm going to wear a skirt today, and get my hair did, and then tackle all the things.
And I've got this song in my head.
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