Miasma

I have stories to write and analyses to create and pictures to edit.

I have laundry to fold and toilets to clean and menus to plan.

I have scriptures to read and prayers to utter and lessons to prepare.

And for some reason, I can't do any of them.

What's the deal?

A touch of the flu, but not enough that I'd let my kids use it as an excused absence. No big project is hanging around to motivate me and no little project can do the job.

I'm in that miasma-masked land of no ambition and negative attitude.

In a funk.

I have two choices today.

• Stay in my nightgown, slippers and ASU hoodie, wallow in the miasma (or, in this case, my bed), and sleep it off.

-OR-

• Ride the bike for 45 minutes, shower, then pull on my sassy pants and a great pair of boots to kick this day's trash out to the curb.

Jury's still out, but I know I'll feel much better if I choose the second choice.

I'll let you know tomorrow.