My life is too easy.

I am bored.

I have read all the Facebook notations my friends have made. (They need to get out there and make more.)

I’ve read three books in the last three days, big thick ones. Plus I reread The Tempest by Shakespeare.

What I haven’t done is write this week’s book chapter. I will though. I will. I know I only have two days left. (My weeks now start on Mondays. I’m on a Euro calendar emotionally.)

But I don’t have anything to do. Well, I don’t have anything I want to do.

Ron’s gone. The boys and I are home alone.

And I should work. But I don’t want to.

Later, though. Later I will have to.

I guess the question is–How soon is later?