There are doors in front of me, but I'm still in the waiting room, trying to find out which door is mine. It's not that I have a choice, it's that the world won't tell me yet.
I've been on the road for two solid weeks, away from my posessions. Late at night I still get my privacy, but this only allows me to make plans, without any means to execute them.
There are things I need to write, bills to pay, conversations I need to have. Composing to finish. Runs to go on. Work to devour. It all sits on hold.
Andy's little cat made me laugh just now. He got stoned on a catnip mouse and clawed up and down the recliner like some deranged mountaineer. Since I last saw him, he's aquired an oversize leather collar with tin spikes on it. It looks hilarious right now, but maybe he'll grow into it.
I've been traveling for too long. I'd really like to see some Sacramento friends, but by tomorrow afternoon, if I don't get any messages, I'm going to have to take off. I'm just tired of driving. I did 450 miles today. Eyes ... heavy ... cat ... purring ...