Take the day and break a promise to yourself.

It’s raining outside. The weather and my mood sit across from one another and smile. Things are getting weathered again or are flooding and spilling over. I thought this would be perfect for getting something proper completed but no. It’s Sunday, says my head. It’s Sunday and it’s dark, and other people will be working during the week so don’t commit yourself now – commit yourself then. Look to the future. Now is ageing, but the future will always be young, turning up as it does; inevitable and enthusiastic.

 

This is it, though. This is the thing I’ve decided not to do. And am in fact not doing, by doing this. So at least I can feel good about that.

 

Were it not Sunday -- were there not a calendar, or a clock -- I think I could not only fill the bottom of that hourglass with words, but perhaps I’d be a better man. No, that’s no true. I thought it was, but it’s not. I just need to not work on Sundays. That’s all. I can try.