It's a cold morning with promises of getting warmer fast. I'm already dashing ahead in my mind of things on my imaginary agenda. I poured my first cup of coffee before the machine stopped gurgling the last drops of brew. I'm glancing at the living room as I go up the stairs thinking I need to sweep as I go up to my office. I turn on the dryer for a quick warming of the towels I dried last night before I take them out to fold. I enter my office and think it needs a major decluttering before I can start to set up my storyboard for my fiction. I'll run this afternoon when the weather turns warmer as promised.
Quiet mornings are the best when there is only my imaginary activity going on.
TT
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