until august

I am once again in the thick of it. A moment here and there, snatched on a supposed day off, is all I can manage for any sort of abstract thought. Planting is my own personal Faustian devil. I'm not sure how, but it sounds more ominous than a plain old devil. It haunts and torments me, consuming my every moment. I barely have room to breathe.

In august, it will be over. I will be free - perhaps forever. For now, though, I stumble on across cut block after cut block, willing myself to care. Life is short and fragile, though, so I will love every moment, by choice if not by passion.

So smile today. Be glad you have room to think. In your thinking, though, don't forget to live.