Today I chose not to write because I did a million other things. I weed-whacked in weather hot enough to sizzle an egg on blacktop. I baked a loaf of rustic rosemary sourdough and a sourdough sandwich loaf. I fed the baby bird every hour on the hour with the low hum of worry that I’d left the shower or bathroom door open and a cat had gotten to it. I talked to my bestie on speakerphone while doing all of this. Then I weeded around the gingko tree and planted two grasses with little shoots of purple flowers.
I’m also choosing not to write because it feels good—like taking a stand for something. Not writing is the best! I’m going to do it more often.
I’m not going to write about how moving the living room couch a foot and a half to the left has made me ridiculously happy, even though it completely unbalanced the room. Somehow it feels more intimate and roomier at the same time. The extra colorful circular rug that matches my delightfully silly bird-on-a-wire artwork has a new home too, and it actually makes sense there. Well, until someone trips over it in that high-traffic spot and I immediately question every decorating decision I’ve ever made.
Today was a reset. And not writing felt like exactly the permission I needed. To not… but to do it anyway.
A tiny act of rebellion.
Love, Jaclynn