Look who has settled into his big blue bed on this rainy day! Finn usually spends the morning downstairs while I write, only traipsing up here when my husband delivers a second cup of coffee. My zoom-mates know to expect them.
I didn’t manage to bustle out the door for a walk this morning. It feels like a day to cocoon.
Cocooning is a luxury, a laziness, and a way to preserve health. I don’t know how to think about it anymore. All this isolation, even partnered and filled with canine company, might be getting to me.
It might also be a good day to whittle down the pile of papers next to the computer. Already a clipboard of novel-related notes surfaced.
A clipboard! Gawd.
On the top page clipped to that clipboard, I found a quote that feels relevant to today, to our time: “Grief … is a form of moral intelligence and even wisdom.” Terry Patten, A New Republic of the Heart.