the view from the couch

we are Quite Weary this morning and finding it hard to summon that “up-and-at-em” attitude of the kicky chorus girls in movie musicals of the 1930s.

It’s 7.30AM – or 0730 hours if we’re being all BBC morse code and Wartime about it.

and we’re utterly supine.

On the couch.

we like to Read a little in the morning to create space for imagination and connection and lively thought (rather than the over-caffeinated panic of Rushing-Out-The-Door) so we get up Rather Early.

but today it’s hard to summon any courage to face the day.

we’re not sick.

Or necessarily Depressed.

Just Awfully Weary

and reading about re-potting roses and moving them to a shady part or under glass (Vita Sackville West). Or inventors in 1970s Paris (who knew crepe-y soles were invented in the 20s? They feel so Carnaby St market circa 59) and Other transatlantic curiosities (Mary Blume) has not Really helped.

deep sigh.

Nothing for it.

Must move from the couch.

As a pre-moving-attempt we just sat up and slid to the other side of the couch to catch the pool of sunlight gathered there.

Today we’d rather be a cat. Lying elegantly and philosophically in a mellow yellow sunshine bath.

But we’re not.

we’re an executive (good lord).

sigh.

Not a cat.

Oh well.