Not sure what's with me but I'm dawdling. Spring shouldn't be tiring. Perhaps barometric pressure changes things, every whichway. I can barely scribble, let alone write.
I stare at my hands which seem dry in the southerly that's blown up our valley today. It knocks down our pot plants - big pots, I'm telling ya. Boof boof goes the wind and down they go.
I tried to tidy my desk which means sweeping away one layer but not the many.
I'm listening to jazz - Bernie McGann's fabulous alto.
I'll get some more things here soon, Dawdle, dawdle, dawdle.
Meanwhile I'm drinking a lot of water trying to replace those 'precious bodily fluids' the high wind dries out (besides I've been a little poorly for a day or two and need something clear and cold to wash through me).