The pile of shoes that I can’t wear still sits beside my bed.  It has been too blessed hot to work.

My beloved little cabin-room at the top of this bungalow holds the heat until late in the day, after the sun has set and the steaminess of the adjacent unfinished attic releases itself into the roofline.  I keep intending to do something about the mess upstairs, but I haven’t yet.  The coats still sit on the rocker, the little pile of outdated capris clutters one corner, and the shoes might just be breeding.

But I’m not angry with myself.  I carried the accumulated water cups down to the kitchen and laundered the towels.  I’m letting myself have a little slack.  The broken toe has not yet healed, and it’s 95 in the shade.  My philosophy of living needs to mellow.  So I skirt the unfinished chores and don’t complain.  Life continues.