Sloth

Today was the kind of day that compels you to do nothing of any real consequence.  A day in which the wind’s icy fingers and the flat, white sky intonate that the papers and letters, filing and weeds, will all be there tomorrow.  Even the clouds were not moving.  The temptation, of course, was to be a good soldier and sally forth with my musket high and a jaunt in my step.  I attempted this for about an hour, but was finally won over by a cardinal atop the fence post, who chided me with pointed tweets that I was, in fact, spoiling a perfectly good do-nothing day and making him feel remorse for his own respite.  As I am partial to cardinals and have no wish to upset the locals, I put down my pen, not even bothering to stack my projects neatly on my desk.  The rest of the day was spent pondering nothing in particular, and reveling that even in the city, one can indulge the call of the wild.