Instead of writing I've been drawing and playing in my art journal. I don't seem to have anything to say.
But for lack of lucid thought, there's always the weather which, though mild for this time if year, has been quite gloomy. The haze of gray that greets my eyes beckons me toward warm blankets and books.
If I had someone to snuggle with, a movie might be good. The husband does neither movies nor snuggling. The dog hasn't been allowed on the new furniture so she's no comfort.
I might just indulge myself with a morning nap.
Did make this page earlier.