Some Days Are Like This.

Most days, I am a well of creativity.

I get up ready to make things happen and I am excited to let them happen, too.

Most days, I look at the clock and wish it would stop for a while so that I may spill all I have into my laptop, sometimes a canvas, sometimes a pot of soup and sometimes all over the place.

But not today.

Today, I am empty.

Not unpleasantly empty but unusually empty.

No great idea, no interest in getting much done, much read, much written.

Not much impetus to go for a run either.

Here I sit in my pink robe at 2:30, reminding myself that contrast is such a good friend and that something in me must know exactly what I need: to do nothing.

So I do.