One of these days I just may decide to slow down a bit.
I've spent my last few hours reading over the beginning of an excellent manuscript written by a friend of mine, read the first 150 pages of an examination of end-time prophecies, and worked on (in my head) the design and content of a tri-fold handout on my candidate.
I've also taken a bath, eaten dinner and sat here, in my desk chair, staring at the small corner where my arm chair and bookshelf meet. There's an extremely soft, distinguished, brown stuffed bunny lying on the back of the chair. (And yes, stuffed bunnies can most assuredly look distinguished.)
A not nearly as distinguished looking fat cat lies in the seat of the chair. She's extremely soft too, and while she does not move much, she is not of the stuffed variety. Another live creature, a stocky shepherd-mix with coarse fur, rests on the floor in front of the chair.
All this work to do, yet here I sit, eating 3 Musketeer minis, rambling, as though I didn't have a care in the world. Oddly enough, I really don't. Life is good.