I can only describe it as a kind of epic stoner brunch: Piles of food on the kitchen counter, piles of bodies on the LoveSac, slow-motion sledding into bramble bushes, Tarot readings on-site, getting home at supper time, and promptly falling asleep on the couch for two hours (instead of doing laundry).
It takes a lot of work for my earth-sign, oldest-child, introverted self to enjoy and value this kind of simple pleasure and time-"wasting." In fact, I woke up this morning in a frenzy about the laundry, work, groceries, bills, and anything else I could think of to panic about.
You'd think blogging in a symmetrical poetic form would help me feel more balanced.
Haiku for March 24, 2013
How to clean the house
And lead an ecstatic life?
In moderation
An autobiographical short poem a day (except when I don't).
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