I hear thunder. Our weather is overcast, gray. I like thunderstorms; it's odd how they gentle my mind.
I've just built another pot of coffee and am giving due consideration to a granola bar I've stashed for just this occasion.
Business is slow which doesn't help my awful depression. I can't allow my thoughts to turn inwards. I need to stay busy. Black thoughts would lead to trouble and will not help with the situation. I know this, yet, it takes all my willpower and self-control to just wait, and wait, and wait.
At one point, this morning, my keys were in hand. At the last second I called Sweet Wife. She said, no. I obeyed.
I read a few chapters in my current book, rise and throw it down and pace. Its words hold little value for me. I turn to the window and stare.
This thunderstorm should help. Then again, its nothing more than a bandaid.