bookshelf envy

I know I’ve been a little dried up lately. I just don’t have much to say. The thoughts I think have to do with gardening, menu’s, wishing my home was nicer, thankfulness that I don’t have to vacuum today, wondering if sewing is really worth the hassle or if I should just drop $40 bucks on a dress for work (though it irks me that I could probably reproduce it for $8 if only sewing prowess was magically imparted upon me). Daily things, insignificant things, things that take energy. Things that are pretty boring to write about.

I never realized how much I charged forward when I was younger. How, if I was feeling restless or wanted a change, I would simply grab it. I don’t think I practiced much forbearance during those free-falling years. Occasionally, it’s still hard to transition. It’s funny how thin the line is between being inspired by something you see or read (as I plow through Bryson’s travel narrative) and being depressed by it :}