Is it possible to scowl at the computer all day?
That’s what I did yesterday, fingers inches away from the delete key.
Feeling awful, inadequate, irritated, put-upon, by turns.
By evening things were somewhat better.
Italian sauce; the recipe said, but by the time the cutting out and adding to was done with, it was something else all together, not bad.
Palm leaves against gold, a stroll around the block, watching the changes that have crept in over the time we’ve been here, the morphing from ignored suburb to prime commercial space; a prelude.