I am working on a portfolio we have to submit every semester at the college where I teach. It would take a boringly long time to explain everything that goes into it, and this writing is a big chunk of procrastination already.   Roses and pansies bloom on this gently warm day. The breeze feels like my grand baby’s fingers stroking my cheek. The flowers are  choking on weeds, and the little tomato plants will stay spindly unless they get more water, but everything is still alive. I’m tied to the desk today, but if I  finish this project today, I will garden tomorrow.

Yesterday  I took my computer to our deck to copy-paste scores of documents into the monstrosity, and after a few hours, the dog and I went running.  Today I have to scan student papers and other images that  support my claim to continued employment. The speakers on the desktop computer aren’t working–I wasted about an hour trying to fix them–so everything is happening in silence.

All the same, gratitude has its place. My complaints belong to the First World.  Third World folks would love to share my issues. Too many of them are dodging bombs and trying to get enough food to stay alive while I am suffering in great comfort, even throwing the tasks aside long enough to put some words on paper.  Things could be worse, but they are bad enough.  Playing around with this post is just prolonging the agony, I know, so it’s time to stop and get back to work.  Yuk.