Sitting here in a cool apartment while the temps outside are a sunny 80F, I am contemplating writing something. Not just anything but something good. My mind seems to think I can but my ideas come in muddled bunches, not clear to put down in words. I’m feeling better, on the mend so to speak, and slowly getting paperwork accomplished. Guilt hovers as I can feel the clutter assembled in the still cardboard boxed memories in my living room. Only the necessary accomplished today, maybe tomorrow?



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