I had a day off from work today.
I went to work for a while anyway.
I had plans of working more after I arrived at home.
I brewed some coffee.
I clicked on the TEDxIND live feed and absorbed.
I found myself clicking through and editing my own family photos.
I ended up gravitating toward some images I made and intuitively began working on this:
It isn't impressive.
It isn't special or different.
However, it was the perfect thing to do while keeping up with something happening in real time that I wasn't fortunate enough to physically be involved in.
I did throw some food in the crock pot for dinner.
I didn't do the laundry.
I didn't sweep the floor.
I didn't even drink all the coffee in my press.
I did eat lunch which is something I don't get to do when it is a working day.
And, it was even leftovers.
I didn't walk the dog.
I didn't iron the 80 pounds of clean clothes mocking me behind my back.
I didn't do the dishes.
I did make this:
a product of a walk Hayes and I took yesterday on the heels of a short Indian Summer.
I feel as though I stole this day.
Stole it away from the things I was supposed to do.
Should have done.
I deserve some time, right?
Why do I have to feel so guilty over it, though?
Oh $h!+. I am late for my appointment.