When There's Nothing Else to Say...
Today was a completely boring, blah day. Which reminds me of
Many years ago a librarian told me that she'd gone to a farm
auction and among the items she'd bought was a big box of
old books. Upon getting home, she was delighted to find a
diary written by the farm wife. She sat down to read it.
"Did chores." was the first day's entry. She turned the
page. "Did chores." she read. She looked throughtout the
entire book. "Did chores." "Did chores." "Did chores."
That was the extent of it.
She said she'd wished the farm wife had written just a bit
more. What chores had she done? Did she hang the clothes
up on the line and when she did, did she take a few
minutes to watch the clouds or listen to the birds sing?
Did she go out on the porch in the evening for a few minutes
and look at the stars before going to bed? What did she
think about? Did she have any dreams? Did she make quilts
or pies or a doll for a child? No one will ever know
because all the farm wife wrote was the simple "Did chores."