REALITY?: Interferes, Inspires, Insists

Creativity grinds to a halt.  Wants and desires and interest pale beneath the necessary. I must clean the cellar for the plumbers coming Saturday to replace all copper pipes.

Tired, sweaty, aching from the motion of the hoe or rather the potatoe fork I use which works much better.  Sitting on the back step for a pause I catch a streaker; a blaze of orange as a red fox races by.  Grabbing the binoculars because he goes so fast I think I’ll need them, racing barefoot across the lawn to view the backfields where he went.  No luck, too quick, and then I do remember to look behind me from where he came perhaps to catch what might’ve put him in a run.

If I can do the preparation cleaning work this morning, I can sit down and break the main computer down this afternoon.

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