Saturday Morning

I have nothing to say this morning, and yet I feel like talking. It’s early. Early-ish. For certain values of early that mean my flatmate is actually surprised to see me up and about before midday on a midday morning. I’m kicking it in my study, just killing time before some writer-peeps hit Skype for a conference call, and there’s natural sunlight spilling in through the gauzy white curtain on the window and it’s the kind of day that feels very fresh and new and yet, somehow, slightly lived in and comfortable, like the day is just a pair of jeans that have long been broken in.

I’m compiling a to-do list for my weekend. There’s going to be some writing.

Occasionally I whistle a few bars of the songs that run through my head. For some reason, right now, I’m fixated on the Misfit’s Astro Zombies, which is far more cheerful than any song about zombie exterminating the human race ever should be.

When I finish this blog post I’ll chat with some writer-peeps. When I’m finished with my writer-peeps I’ll edit and proof an article that needs to be sent off today. When I’m done with the article, there will be a modicum of writing and some grocery shopping and then a trip out to a local wrestling show. Tomorrow I’ll write and move a washing machine and catch up with some gamer-peeps via the magic of the internet, and all will be right in my corner of the world.

There are worse things. I know that.

So I take solace in the moments that make life worthwhile.