Trapped

It's one of those days. Those days that deserve to be treated as a glorious Saturday afternoon, with no school, and no work, and the "to do" list is graciously awaiting attention with the rest of the currently forgotten bills and paperwork that must, at some future point, be tackled. One of those days when my favorite spot on the front lawn, that spot I have claimed as my own from frequent use and now seems to bend to my body as I lay under the warmth of a glorious sun, is expertly calling my name and longing to visit with that lovingly used Mexican blanket and my current favorite work of fiction. One of those days when the smell of freshly mowed grass seeps its way through every nook and cranny and begs me to come play and experience its invigorating scent. It's one of those days where the sky is a brilliant periwinkle blue and I want to find myself following the path of each curiously shaped cloud. A fish, bunny, or giant ice cream cone tracing a nondescript path through the elegant blue. It's one of those days where the tinted window of our front door serves as an unwanted barrier to the glorious day I should be experiencing, instead my computer hums quietly in front of me, trucks, cars and buses scream by and the paperwork steadily piling up in front of me draws my focus from the scents, smells and feels of the exquisite spring day I prefer to be running about in. A minute passes and the clock blinks the new time, 2:00pm. Four more hours. Yes, it's one of those days.