After doing what I had to do in order to do what I want to do, aka work, and doing a blizzard of chores… I could not resist the call of the creek. I followed one of the little tributaries until I was certain I would break my neck doing so. Even though it’s 80 plus, the water is a bit chilly and my feet started feeling as cold as a senator’s heart. I could not quite make it to a tree with at least two dozen huge crows in it. It sounded like a management meeting wherein everyone was arguing about what color the cover sheet should be for the new TPS reports. Light breeze, the sound of the water cascading, and would-be managers cawing crazily in the overhead canopies of the trees. Maybe because it’s been a while since I’ve walked down the middle of the stream beds… It’s hard to simultaneously bear a grudge against the workday while experiencing such a familiar feeling. I tried hard to find something to gripe about. But the water cascading kept telling me to be quiet and be still. If you’re not prone to overthinking, you might not understand the imposed stillness.
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