Does not feel like July around here at all. July is usually hot and humid. It's been clear and crisp and sunny and warm (but not too warm) and breezy - like a warm Spring day. But it's July. WTF? Not that I'm complaining - if summer was like this all the time I'd be quite content - though it would be nice to have some hot weather - just a wee bit.
So, it' gorgeous out, the mulberry tree outside my window here is loaded with berries that the birds and squirrels love (and that the cats love sitting in the window watching). I just took a nice long walk. I have plenty of things that I could be doing. I have laundry that's waited long enough. I have to get my house clean for a writer's group meeting on Saturday. I have a book I need to finish reading (an advance copy of Stephen Elliott's The Adderall Diaries) and get sent to the next person on Thursday (I take my commitments seriously). I have emails that need to be sent. I have to get ready for a poetry reading Thursday night (my first solo in about 3 years). I have gardening to do (weeds to pull, plants to plant, maybe some harvesting if I'm lucky). I have to clean cat litter boxes. I need to find a recipe for Donna. The list goes on.
But I'm feeling somewhat unmotivated. My husband is away for ten days - and of course for this trip that we couldn't afford for me to accompany him he has a really nice room with a spa in the bedroom (what a waste). It's been a long time since he's been gone this long (and yes, he just left yesterday - why am I complaining?) - and maybe it's because we're not going to get any vacation in this summer (and what he's doing this 10 days is NOT vacation) - I guess it's the summer doldrums.
