To me it's still Tuesday

My iPhone says it's Wednesday.
The computer says it's Wednesday.
But reality says it's Tuesday night.
So the hell with technicalities.
It's Tuesday night and here's my little post
and my bags are nearly packed
despite Ketzel's pleading look
and well-placed sprawl
with which she hoped to prevent my departure.

And so to sleep.

And then
to Nashville.

Good night, all.

A lesson for myself

So here I am. Trying to get back to blogging regularly, to get back to writing, with more concern about regularity than about the quality of what I produce. (Note, please, how I hold back the urge towards scatological word play as I see the previous sentence take shape - and how I cheat by pointing out the lurking pun. Another sign of how I was designed to have a master.)

Where was I?
I'm so easily distracted.

I want to blog daily.
I failed on the third day.
Here comes the challenge.
Another temptation to fight.

Just because on the third day I couldn't manage to create even a small gathering of words, let alone earth and plants and all that grand stuff, doesn't mean I should walk away from my ever so meager project. So today I'm back.

And again
I hope
tomorrow.

And Wednesday?

I'm off to Nashville!

Making an effort

Can I do it?
Can I return here each day?
Can I leave a little note
just to say I was here,
like the memories of kisses
and the blush of spanked buttocks
that remain behind when the man
departs
and scents and love linger?
At least
I can try.

Discipline is good for me.
That we know.

Maybe...

Maybe it doesn't have to be a big thing.
Maybe I don't have to wait
for lots of time and thunder rolls that
herald inspiration's unexpected arrival.
Maybe just hello
and I'm ok
and life goes on
and today he spoke of marble floors
and private chambers,
iron gates and metal doors
inspired by something he did for work
and there's peace and comfort
and piercing excitement
and wanting
and needing
and loving securely
and really.
Isn't that enough?