The year is midway through. The summer is all but over. The photo albums are still undone. The binders are ignored. The magazines had aged. That bag was on the floor on the same spot for months. The cabinet doors had been painted but halfheartedly so with an ashen gray - as if to drive home the point. The piles of papers had won. So this is how overwhelmed feels. Not even a seemingly cheery bowed tote can lift these sunken spirits up. I need bread.
