Dragoncaller (dragoncaller) wrote,

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With nothing planned

Rain, silent as mist, is falling, polishing the leaves until they shine. The branches bow reverently, sagging, weeping while the grass below turns a violent green.

I didn't have any really plans for today and with the rain killing the mood, I think that nothing's going to get down. We all need a snow day once in a while.

I've been trying to clean up a bit. Get organized. But as I find I remove one thing from my life, someone blusters in, arms full of crap, and they exclaim, "Oh, look!" And they dump all their crap on your nice, clean space.

Like Tetris, except it's not fun.

You feel bad sometimes, at least I do, saying no. "Can you help us out?" No. "But we NEEEEEEED you!"

It's nice to be needed. But you've gotten through most of your day without me, you'll do fine for the rest, I'm sure.

And don't ask why I can't help you. It's none of your beeswax. I made promises to me, promises that I have to stop breaking. Promises to be healthier, happier, to work on the house, the barn, the car, my office.

I have another manuscript I'm writing. I'm coming up to the halfway mark. I've been at this thing for YEARS. I used to write a page a night. Now, it's a page a month.

I made a promise to me and because I don't have to look at that pouting lip or those sad eyes I can break promises to me real easy.

And therein lies the rub.

Broken promises.

Never a good thing. I was supposed to do something today. I was supposed to garden, or if it rained, install the ceiling fan in the barn.

Didn't happen.


It's times like this that I must pray to God and thank him for the precise placement of the sun and the earth and the moon and their cosmic rotation in the solar system because there will always be tomorrow.

And that's a promise.

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