What do I want to do? I have a kickball game in an hour. I need to get ready, especially as I plan to stay on that end of town to do a run afterward. But, right now I only want to write. There are days when the feel of keys beneath fingers, holding out then giving in, is mystical. All that clickity-clack-clickity-clack-clacketing.
A little evening running ought to pound it right out of my head. I’ll do laps around the park we play in. I’ll be sweaty and gross when I return home. Ready for bed. In the early hours of dawn, I’ll be ready to do it again on this turf, the cobble stones and bricks of this little village I live in. A village in a city. Having grown up in a true village, I get how funny that is.