The word is a transformer is blown. It's been about four hours, and no news. It's so strange to see the neighborhood completely dark.
No point in trying to stay awake. Time for bed. This one-fingered typing on my iPhone is for the birds.
A beautiful breeze blows through the open windows.
Praise be, for small mercies that bring great comfort.
And sometimes you just have to go with what is.
The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice created to harness three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journry, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.
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