Reading E-mail
I sort through screens of e-mails.
Deleting what I can. Scanning parts of the rest.
The header. Is it addressed to me? The number of people on
the e-mail. The first line.
A compliment. An advertisement. A come-on. A problem.
I have taken to not reading e-mails until noon. Or later.
The rest of the day will be filled with solving small
problems.
Not problems I created, but issues that a president can
address.
Not fix, perhaps, at least answer.
I ask myself, why start the day with problems?
Instead, I start with coffee, a little Danish, and the NYT
games. Puzzles I can solve.
Or, I drive into the hills to photograph wildlife and
nature. Brief respites from the mundane
In between, I might write or edit. Or paint.
Where to start? The page and the canvas are empty and
white.
I don’t remember the last time I read a book. Or took a
walk.
Arthritis and the pain keep me from what I once was.
Or is that an excuse?
Like not reading e-mail.
