Today I am writing on borrowed time. Even that is hard. I have cut some of my roses and placed them on the desk next to me, there are many pristine white ones and one strongly scented, gorgeous, intense red one in the centre, and they are placed in a beer glass. Distractions abound and are relentless. I try to say to myself nope, I would be working this morning were it not for the teacher of the course we’re running being sick. So, I can safely ignore every all messages from WhatsApp, not be tempted to answer any emails or give follow-up to so many, many things.

I wonder if I could possibly write a blog post, like I used to, just to get my thoughts out there, not because I expect anyone to read it. Or even finish “translating” my book so I can finally publish it in Italian, or perhaps do some marketing and illustrating and graphics for the next tings we want to do as La Pecora Nera… but that would be work too, so no.

I wish I had noise-cancelling headphones, but more importantly, I wish I didn’t feel guilty in using them if I had them.

My dogs have returned from outside and my husband and distractions will resume, plus I will want some coffee so I will interrupt this flow of consciousness, but I am really really smelling the roses… if nothing else the scent of my red rose is just heady and lush and gorgeous, if you can say that about a scent.

A glass of freshly cut white and red roses
A glass of freshly cut roses, all white and one scrumptious red.

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