You know those days? Somehow you miss walking through the doorway and bump into the doorframe. The toothpaste falls off the toothbrush. You fail to see the new red sock in with the new white sheets. the car keys keep hopping from one random unlikely spot to another. You type the wrong word, erase it and type it again.
Those days have a power of their own. They snowball, change shape, snowball some more, pick up speed and then run over your foot. I am not sure if it is constructive or destructive to write on those days. It is something in the breeze or the lemons or the shampoo or the apples. I get the feeling that whatever I write I will unwrite tomorrow. And so, I am going to swim in the ocean, read about the death of the corset, get sandy feet, wash the salt out of my hair and start over.