Square One and a Half

I have nothing to write.

Tuesday finds me at this "dumb screen" (my Luddite wife's term) trying to find a way to procrastinate.  I have other work to do:  Yard work and household chores.  I have washed the morning's dishes.  Later on this week I will go back to work, to tackle the never-ending paperwork that lines the halls of bureaucracy.

Yet the ceaseless job of the wordsmith remains.  I call this being back to square one and a half, wherein one has the resources, time and ability but no objective, no goal.  Every realm of existence has this dilemma.  Sometimes our tendency toward ritualism dulls us to the fact that our minds must be active, that our choices must be conscious, that our lives must be lived.

Between the last paragraph and current one, twenty four hours have passed.  I decided to wash the exterior of our house, finish this week's yard work, clean the gutters, apply bug poison, and wash and fold three loads of clothes.  Today will be easier.  I want to pick at least two buckets of blackberries from out back (which my family members love to eat, even though none of them will help me pick. They say they are afraid of the snakes, the lazy bums!)

But once I am in, the ongoing work will remain:  Drawing up a workshop syllabus;  editing something that I allegedy finished;  identifying my next project;  moving beyond Square One and a Half.

Next stop for me (and hopefully you):  Square Two!

Always B Positively Positive!

Nature vs Nature

He (or she) was sitting there, all googly-eyed and slimy, with no particular goal in mind other than to sun him (or her) - self.  The only problem was that there was no sunlight to be gathered, only the off-white glow of flourescent lights and their infernal, nearly imperceptible humming.  The frog sat on the edge of the toilet, the third one that had appeared recently, each one larger than the one preceding it.  This one was light green, very large and very spotted.  Weeks ago I flushed the first one.  But with the second and now the third, I did the manly thing.

I called my daughter. 

With a gloved hand she gingerly trapped the beastie, and gently let it back outside.  I wonder if there is some sort of conspiracy or collusion behind my back, because an hour and a half later that same frog had hopped up onto my porch railing, and was looking at the house.

The other day, I stepped out my front door, and there was a snake.  Not a moccasin or a rattler (which are common in this area); just a small black racer.  I am not afraid of snakes, but I still jumped;  anti-venon now costs up to $3000 a dose in this area, with the average number of doses being between 5 and 7, depending on the size and weight of the victim.  Once again, I bolstered my masculinity and called my daughter.  This time we shooed it away with a water hose.  Naturally, my wife now wants me to reapply all of the liquids and powders around the house perimeter and stink up the garage with mothballs.

When I left New York years ago, I swore that as long as my mind is good, I would never live with rats and roaches.  So far, so good.  Meanwhile, I am surrounded by a veritable menagerie.   Recently I got up in the middle of the night, opened a window and told a fox to shut up.  She ran to another yard, taking her yelping with her.

Nature never quits.  So why are humans so quick to give up on their most cherished goals and dreams?

Always B Positive!