Had to hurry to scribble Saturday’s poem down at the last minute before I forgot. The words came to me quickly and kept trying to slip away.
And today we’re back to the vet because the puppy got his cone off and tore his stitches.
There is nothing so frustrating as being presented with the opportunity to do what you love, to create something amazing, and finding yourself distracted or frustrated at every turn by countless little things that build up and go wrong until you finally just want to explode. Did not get done everything I wanted to today and pouring my frustration out here. Melodramatic? Probably. Mildly beneficial? Oh yes. Now, if only I didn’t feel like this poem is terrible. Oh well, revisit and revise, right?
The Everyday Poet 