Holding on to summer

Ok, so I'm supposed to be writing progress notes right now. I only have 7 to do, so it won't take more than an hour and a half. I have to turn them in tomorrow so I can get paid. If I were good, I would write those 7 progress reports plus the one I have so far this week. Then I should only have 3 left to write for this week, assuming I don't have any more no shows. This PSR stuff really sucks. I am one of those dependable people who shows up when expected to and leave when the time comes. My clients do not share this part of my OCD. But, if they were all good at making appointments and maintaining a schedule with any regularity, they wouldn't need PSR, would they?

Next week I start school, anyway. I got my ISU email account back, and I just went through and deleted all of the old stuff that can't possibly really matter now that I have already earned my bs. And besides, I need something to do besides progress notes.

I am already missing this summer. It is quite gone yet, but the hot weather is letting go and the cold weather is inching closer. Do you remember the summers that seemed to last forever? Kids don't have well developed internal time keepers. It is a wonderful thing. Of course, it also works against kids in the middle of winter while sitting in a classroom in which the teacher is droning on and on and on. But summers, they had some staying power.


So I was sitting this weekend, watching tv from my front yard, because I really needed to start moving into my new house, when a dragonfly came to visit. I took a lot of pictures of the cute little fella. They really have cool faces, don't you think? (click on the picture to make it big enough to see!) Then I was looking at the leaves in my willow trees, and noticed how cool they looked the way the light was hitting them. I really like the picture I am posting here. It's like a background picture for a note, but there is no note. I am leaving it blank. Every time I look at it, I can fill in the blank with the feelings it brings. Its meaning will change over time. That is one of my favorite things about good art. It means what it needs to mean, when it needs to mean it.

Procrastination. I wonder if I procrastinate so badly because I am so reluctant to give up any more of my remaining time than I have to? I doesn't work, of course. It does seem, however, that the more things one does, the busier they are, the more quickly time flies by. Maybe I'm just middle aged or something. I can't get back any of the time that has passed me by, and I can't slow down the time that is coming. Is that a good enough reason to feel sad?