This House Is Home 5
I am surrounded by thoughts uncompleted, sentence fragments with ellipses, words on the tip of my tongue, washed but not rinsed, filed but not polished, waxed but not buffed, good ideas without discipline, bad ideas without remedy . . . a surfeit of pendency.
And I am so very tired.
Surprisingly (I keep saying I'm an optimist -- weren't you listening?), another day of failure, lassitude, compulsion, and bereavement for all the "what me worry?" of apartment dwelling. I imagine my landlord, my homeowning frinds, laughing.