Life is good

This morning the drum beat of rain woke me before the alarm. My bed was toasty warm. I watched dawn spread its misty grey light over the red roof tops outside my window. Last night I hadn’t drawn the quilted drapes that keep the place cool in summer and warm in winter without using as much energy.

At the same time as I was snuggling for the last minutes before starting my writing day, I read about Margaret Mead in Written by Herself edited by Jill Ker Conway. One of the true luxuries about working full time as a writer from home is being able to read before getting up. The pressure to rush out to work is non-existent. That does not mean I am not busy. By seven I’d exercised, ironed my slacks (although I might not leave the flat today), taken my shower and had my breakfast cooking.

Now I as I sit at the computer I see how shiny the rain has made the tiles. The woman across the street has her window open, which makes me want to shiver. I still have not put on the heat because I am cozy in my heavy slacks, sweater and thick socks. Probably this year with rising heating prices others will be doing the same.

I am incredibly grateful that I can work as I am working. A cup of caramel tea is on the table next to my desk. The writing is going well. Life is beyond good.