It's a day where I don't have much to say for myself at its close. It's been a nothing day--a purposeful, I'm-on-vacation-so-yes-I-am-eating-Doritos-for-lunch, shoeless (would-have-been-braless-if-I-weren't-in-someone-else's-house), stay-inside-and-snuggle-with-the-pit-bull kind of day. I watched a movie and two thirds of a TV season. My major accomplishment for the day was feeding the dog and cat. Unless you count getting out of bed which, considering the sort of day, should really be acknowledged.
And while this kind of day does not do much for the writing juices and their flowing, it does something necessary for the soul. Not that today was uplifting or meaningful, but that I spent a whole day--from waking up until now--not thinking about the stresses and worries and questions that have pinged around my brain for months. This is, I'm quite sure, a first. And while I could certainly have been more productive, I don't feel like today was wasted--I feel, in fact, like it was necessary. That while it was a stunning fall day, a walk would have had ben trolling my brain for things to ponder. And instead, I spent it just breathing, just getting wrapped up in invented stories, wrapped in a blanket, sandwiched between the couch and the remarkable dead-weight of a sleeping dog.
The day is ended, and I have little to show for it unless you count rest. Which I do. I feel rested in a way that I haven't in ages. That cannot be time time wasted.
And just to be sure, I'm doing it again tomorrow.