Yesterday my hand, my arm, and my neck and shoulder staged a rebellion. My muscles claimed they were sore and tired from my unrelenting pursuit of inflicting “cruel and unusual punishment” by forcing them to engage in handwriting, page after page of notes, over the past few days. They drove their point home, and I relented. I switched gears and opted to read a book on my instructor’s suggested reading list. They agreed to turn the pages, and I even coaxed them to take a handful of notes.
My To-Do List also benefited from the enforced work slowdown. I changed the sheets on every bed in the house and gathered every dishtowel, bath towel, washcloth, and bathmat. More laundry loads found their way through the washing and drying cycles and then into the proper closet or drawer. Why, despite my best efforts, is there always so much laundry? Next, I…
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The Reluctant Poet 
Thank you for sharing. 💕☕💕
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