Dear Diary,
The alarm went off at the wrong time this morning. Technically, it’s been going off at the wrong time ever since last Sunday, the Day that We Wrenched an Hour out of our Lives.
Went to 7:00 a.m. Bible study this morning and discussed various things having to do with a few verses in John 12. We traipsed merrily around the Bible to look at related passages. My brain felt impaired, but fortunately I kept my mouth shut and didn’t advertise the fact. The sky was dark when we left home, but the sun had risen by the time we left the church.
At home we’re reading in Job and Romans now. Meaty stuff. I got to a chapter in Job where he starts rolling out the sarcasm toward his “friends,” always an entertaining part.
Spent almost four hours writing a poem inspired by the book “The Magician’s Nephew” by C.S. Lewis. The poem was a writing assignment. I filled a page of scratch paper with rhyming words, 90% of which I did not use.
Forced myself to get out of the chair (the Sticky Chair, as I often think of it) to get my body moving. Physical therapy, stationary biking, getting more steps in, working in the kitchen.
I’m staring at the clock now and it’s staring back at me accusingly. Somehow I got lured into the Sticky Chair again. The kitchen is calling me and if I don’t respond, things will go all askew in our schedule.
Foggily, Me
This. Deleted. Morning. (You know the rest)
Lynniebeemuseoday 