Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Image by edith lüthi from Pixabay

A new week and a new month.

A new page, awaiting that first pen stroke…

This is how it feels this morning, but the truth doesn’t seem so lyrical or poetic.

I have had a look at all the irons in my fire, still far too many for my liking. I have become used to seeing them there, and maybe that’s the problem. They have become ‘normal’…

I removed one of them last week. I waited for the heavens to open, or some other fanfare, but my effort passed almost unnoticed. Maybe, it takes more than one. I will have to get rid of another, just to see…

I wonder what I will get up to this week?