I've loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night-Galileo

11 days.
It's a lazy morning, full of sunbeams flowing through the window shades, the dogs are howling at ambulances, and a bunch of cardboard boxes stare at me, waiting to get sorted through before I leave. My father's guitar hangs on the wall, reminding me of things I haven't touched in awhile. I wonder how much fear consumes my everyday choices...and conquers my creativity and my playfulness and my joyfulness, and makes my friends oversleep and stay home...Who was it that said you either live by fear or joy?
It's a day I almost wish was rainy, so I'd feel better about getting stuff done inside...Instead I think I'll walk the dogs and head for some coffee. Sweet Melancholy.