Where is the time going? ah summer, you are a fleeting dream...

 ..."and summer's lease hath all too short a date."

--Sonnet 18, Shakespeare

I have not accomplished much of my personal wish list this summer. I'll admit it, I've spent more time online than I ought to have, which is not only a bad use of time, but bad in general for my mental health. I've been on childcare duty since school let out, and to be honest, I get tired. Very tired. And the "free time" I've had has been spent catching up on house chores and errands, for the most part. 

That all said, I have read a little. Written very little. Not nearly what I had hoped, but some. And I did start shifting poems around for a manuscript. It's nowhere near where I wanted it to be, but it's in process. But I have not even killed the weeds in the flagstones. I have not done much in the way of weeding at all. I'm just watching every day slip through my fingers, and the regrets are starting to hum in the back of my head. 

Too late, too late, they are singing, and it's getting pretty loud. 

I still have a couple of weeks, and I will get my house and head in order. I have to. When work starts in 20 days, I will not be any more free than I am now --less, in fact-- and the pressures to fit everything in only get more-so. 

That all said, I have some of today to get things done. What I really want, though, is to sit on the deck and not do. Not do chores. Not doom-scroll. Not think too much or too hard about the terrors that are encroaching on our sanity and safety. 

Maybe I can.

C