Welcome To My Bed

Magic morsel #28, where movement and questions are next of kin.

Life is slightly out of control. The way that I can tell is that I went out and bought more books this morning. Woke up at eight, dragged myself out of the house, had a pot of tea and played with words for awhile. I have been working more than I care to mention, which allows very little time for writing. My novel goes neglected, and has been lying dormant somewhere in the back of my brain since early May. My poems go unwritten. And my shelf of books stares me in the face every night as I fall asleep in this mocking way that is also sad. There are so many of them there waiting to be read, and every night when I get back from the day's dealings, my tank is empty of energy.

What remains in this chaos is my penchant for questions. I ask more of everything I hear, to the point that my co-workers laugh and are unsure of how to respond. Questions only lead to more questions. And all I want to do is watch the World Cup.