Life is a self-complicating enterprise. Every item on the To Do List breeds a host of other items, until the hierarchy of the day’s requirements resembles a massive European royal family tree. I thought I might enjoy a calm and quiet night, less is more obviously, but that dream was squashed by the abrupt interrupting boot of work responsibilities, yet again.

I am of an age when retirement is just far enough away to be a teasing and needful thing, yet close enough to stir the blood to feel the hastening of time. It isn’t that I just look forward to retirement and freedom from a career spent in the trenches, I long for it… a deep diver knows the feeling, the bodily pull toward oxygen on resurfacing. Every day is a day closer. Every day is still a day of yet many more days, weeks, months, and years.

Tonight, in between catching up on work brought home, I will be editing some fiction and trying to get it sent out to editors before morning. Despite my boss thinking otherwise, it is my day off after all. I want to have a part of it just for me.