You know those moments,
The one where you’re standing (or rather sitting) between sleep and consciousness. Tired and yet determined not to give in. Past the point where you have the energy to make something useful of the evening but oh so willing to spend your last minutes pretending that you’re trying,..
I’m there right now. Glass of “white barolo” in my hand (as some old ladies once mistakenly called the Piemontese chardonnay I’ve poured for myself), stray music and fleeting lights in the background and a list of things to do that I’ve lovingly compiled fully aware that I have no chance in hell of finishing it tonight.
One could start with so many things;
The letters in need of being written
The tasks begging to be performed
The bills unpaid
The questions unanswered
The plans unformed.
Or rather, let’s start with the wine the place the mood. Then sleep, and the chance to pretend again tomorrow…