It's thirty-six degrees here and I am looking out my office windows at something dreadful called "wintery mix." In Seussian fashion I don't want to go out and I don't want to stay in, have loads to do but don't care to begin. I keep jumping from one thing to the next, though nothing engages me. The only solace is, as I walk back and forth to the kitchen (I convince myself that the twenty-five steps there and back negate the small square of dark chocolate with orange that I am going to fetch) is the new screens flanking the sofa. I may need to take just one more pass.Labels: Mrs. B at Home, Musings from the Dream House
