How To Catch A Cold Without Regret

One good skimming stone, one limpet shell saying 'O'

If I wash my hair today, tomorrow I could schedule in some combing. 
Not to glorify busy, if messy hair is a glorification. I forget. It could be fashionable, if that word still exists.
Anyway, here I am babbling: poor time management; though most things seem to be getting done; the big picture is a body of water - me and my task list are bouncing over it, skimmed stones – I'm not at all sure if I know what I’m doing but I’m doing it. 
 There’s a destination which we may or may not reach.
Even r
est time is skittish: yet this fear is relished – if only all fear were like this!  

Doubt is less popular. The work ahead is a weight I haven’t fully figured how to shoulder.   Did I ever figure out any previous burdens?  
Luckily, no! An encouraging precedent!  

 When I am standing on the shore, a real shore, and the air is gathering chill and the water is silky-dark, I doubt my ability to get in and swim. But then I am swimming. Gulls wheel and cry, yacht ropes clank. I’m a giant in a bladder-wrack forest. Perfect twists of wood drift by.  The sky can be anything – bursting golds, dissolving greys, lashing rain - it cannot be wrong.  

 Later again I am curled in blankets, brimming with symptoms, reminding myself that plenty of folk have this same virus without braving the swim: busy without the bounce.

A beach at twilight encourages adventures


UGH. I'm sorry to hear you're sick. My hubby is, too, and how I've managed to escape is it thus far is beyond me. When he coughs, he sounds like Greta Garbo's Camille. Take care of yourself, and get well soon.
Sorry about your cold.

Glorifying busy - I suppose I do that. Don't mean to but I suppose I do. Hmm.

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