Today I don’t feel like writing.  I’m not inspired to work, get dressed, drive my car, answer the phone or even brush my teeth.  But brush them I must, for I’m working a double today and 15 hours of unwashed teeth is just indulging this lazy streak too much.

But…I could crumble into a contented slumber right now and dream of that sunny, summer day when Edgar and I fell asleep on the warm, smooth cliffs above the Pudget Sound.  Or I could envision myself 10 again, running wild in the mountain hills with huckleberry stained fingertips.  Or maybe I’m on Topanga Beach with a grey sky, a fancy camera and a brand-new love.

All of these places I would rather be but like all fond memories, it is the mundane, tar-pit existence between them that holds it all together.  For if each and everyday was amazing and magical, how could we learn to appreciate them?? And how would we discern what was memorable??

Yet on days like today, when the clock ticks on and I’m eating 3-day-old leftovers, I sometimes wish for more memorable moments.  But I’m saving up…next week is my 30th birthday and I’m sure it’s going to be unforgettable; a lush hunting ground for new   memories and rainy day reminiscences.