11.25.14 - This Chicken's Head is Not Here
I stayed up much too late last night, watching TV and listening to police scanners, seeing things work, and things not work, applauding the peaceful protests, cringing at the fires and looting and shootings. I write about law enforcement, and it’s not often so front and center, so attainable. Seeing police in action is a boon for research, yes, but it's scary, too. I applaud the reporters who braved their lives to bring us the stories from around the country, too. It was a hard night, one I hope isn’t repeated. Alas, I fear my wish will not come true.
So I’ve been in a reflective mood today, and clearly distracted, as I first forgot my car keys, then had to come back to the house three times for, in turns, my Fitbit, my PO Box keys, and the grocery list. Then I left my wallet in the car... On and on and on, all day, silly little things here and there. I ran around like a chicken with its head cut off - such is the colloquial term - and was being blonde at the same time.
My mind is not on my work or my errands. It’s somewhere else, and I finally stopped trying to make things work and instead settled in to clean my desk, do some filing and continue emptying the bookshelves. I know when the universe has bested me.
Word count - Zero.
Boo. Hiss.
But I’m here. And you’re here. So let’s have a virutal hug and some tea and a prayer for peace. Since that’s all I can really think about today.