My Desk Was Cleaner Yesterday

The weather keep promising and warning of showers--maybe strong storms--in the very near future. This is mostly hype; however, as we have a dog who refuses to go outside if its raining and will sit on top of you and shiver when it thunders, I pay more attention to the forecast than otherwise. Which means that I've been a little on edge as summer creeps in and the humidity zooms and the little thunderstorm icons start to march across the screen...but nothing materializes. In addition, the Jack to my Sally got his second shot yesterday and, again, rumors of a few bad days following the second shot had us laying in the soup (for him) and pizza (for me) and waiting.

The tension!!

So, of course, something needed to be straightened. It started out as organizing writing projects so that the notebooks for the most current projects were close to hand and then turned into rearranging the closet and progressed to updating the TBR shelf because, let's face it, as soon as I put something on there I promptly decide NEVER EVER to read it. Okay, brain, thanks for that.

Today my desk bears the evidence that I started...well, repopulating it with tiny notebooks with faces, stuffed dragons, and an octopus that looks like it's going into construction. I'm going to try getting the writing trolley arranged today. Does the writing trolley need a post? Would it help me arrange it? (yes. it will get a post.)

What about the writing? Well...I do have a notebook pulled out so I may have my project for the rest of this month sorted. We'll see.

Hope you're have a good week and the storms give you a miss!

-- Chrissa

Comments

To Blue Fields Far Below

Sharing with The Sunday Muse #228 , The Fashionable Twenties. A sycamore fairy sits crosslegged in the road Dragons swim toward smooth hills above the storms Vines embrace the telephone poles Someone washed the blue skies and she knows It's time to dare the salty foam It's time to wade through the eternal fields' folds And gather golden apples for home. Hoping this finds you with space to daydream and a good book in which to wander. Working on turning last week's prompt into a longer piece, as I found myself intrigued by the idea of tea in the garden as combat. Social situations are not my forte. As it's still Spider September, there will be a chihuahua-sized jumping spider that is none too happy about anything but hunting squirrels (that's for you, Mom). -- Chrissa

Once Upon a Future Past

Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa

Flagrant

Sharing with The Sunday Muse #217. Come be part of the conflagration. :) Oh, they called the mob to celebrate But only the fire heard They called the mass to congregate But only the dry grass bowed A conflagration Called to prayer Hungry for light Hungry for air Oh, they called the mob celebrate Wearing flames in their hair They called the mass to congregate Faceless in the burning air. Greetings and salutations. I'm not sure what to say--we're not celebrating the 4th this year (not that I'm prepared to cede one holiday to the authoritarian idiots in charge of our state, but our grass is still dry from the heat and we have a dog terrified of fireworks...so we're celebrating by bunkering down and watching Howling 2 at the gleefully deranged suggestion of my sibling) and otherwise I've turned our dead corn plants into the basis for this year's Camp NaNo project...it's turning into a weird year, the kind of year where I'm reading more horror than norma...

A Weed on The Curb

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