Friday Afternoon

I am not extremely wise, but I know enough to know that nothing productive ever happens on Friday afternoon. It's been a long motherfuckin week, and you're always in this addled, noncommittal headspace that isn't conducive to doing any kind of work at all.

My new thing, then, instead of sitting there with my hands hovering over my keyboard, is to launch off on a walkabout.

Because it's good to walk. Walking, like all the other slow things in life, is meditative. As is staring over the precipice of a towering cliff. As is the wind from an oncoming storm. As is the lacework of yellow flowers in the fields. As are the birds slipping through the tall grass and following us with their songs.