uncool_hipster

I intended to write
A little poem a day.
Line up the words
Assembly line style.

A little factory
Pumping out creativity
Like so many things
All looking the same

Who knew
The words had a union.
And it was explained to me
They don't work weekends.

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I spent the day outdoors. It was nice. One of those burning summer days that can make you forget what it's like to be cold. A picnic day... a kite flying day... a children laughing and playing day. I don't always take the time to stop and appreciate these kind of days and that's a shame. Rush around... do this... get that done... or the other end of the spectrum which has me in a sloth like stupor rebelling against my mounting tasks. Today was one of those inbetween days. Drove around with the sunroof open and the wind in my face and felt no guilt that my room is rapidly filling up with clutter and confusion. The need to clean up after myself is often erased by a nice day... or just about anything for that matter. I got in, had a deep cleansing nap and now I'm waiting to talk to my wonderful woman who's away for the summer. I adore her. That will top my day off perfectly.