I'm hoping that moving closer to work will allow me to relish life a bit more, like I used to. Y'know, appreciate the everyday, the mundane, the extraordinarily ordinary. The quiet morning cup of tea while looking out the kitchen window, faced with the day ahead.

The only piece of that mundane, everyday, extraordinarily ordinary appreciation I get now is when I'm outside before the sun rises, watching the ballerina pinks become flamingo pinks become florescent oranges until BRILLIANT BLINDING LIGHT pours over the horizon. On rare occasion, I do get to appreciate the country noises spilling in through an open window, carried on a cool breeze at night. The symphony of frog and cricket have not started yet -- those happen in later summer months. 

It used to be that my appreciative moments came when I was alone, before the rush of the day had to start. But my schedule is such now that I am always rushing; I'm always getting ready for work or driving or logging in and checking in and answering and scheduling and painting and counting and organizing and writing or making sure to spend time with other people because my time with them is limited or making sure to hear how everyone's day was but doing it hurriedly because I do care how it went but I don't want to keep everyone else who still wants to spend time with me, waiting.