As much as I would like to avoid it, some days I must putter.
Of all the things I wanted to get done today, I haven't touched a speck. Instead, I've puttered about.
At least I did not get bitten by that really big Redback Spider. Normally I'm okay with spiders, but not this one. Not today.
And I must confess it was a good thing I drive like a little old lady, or that Not-Quite-Paying-Attention-Young-Driver might have nailed me instead of the kerb. (I wonder what sort of damage she's done to her tyre?)
I'm sorry, Mr Ficus. You and I have had a good relationship for the past decade or so, but when you go sneaking taproots into the pavement behind my back, I will cut you off. Please don't hold it against me too long.
Last night was a really, really good night. I attended the opening of the Rockingham Writer's Centre. I caught up with some fellow writers and met some new ones. I talked with lots and lots of people who told me about the good things in their lives, and the writing they were doing. I'm so, so glad I went.
I might have used up all my mojo last night. I don't regret that.
But today I must putter. Today I'll just have to accept that.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Her Grace really should be working on Gamma Ray Bursts.