I'm not crazy

It's been a glorious day today! Sunny, mild, fresh and - well - glorious! I had two hours of work, then four hours to kill before a meeting with a pshchiatrist to talk about the depression (which the Prozac has dealt with. There is a bit of lag time getting fitted into the Doctor's schedule.) The doctor's office was 5 miles from the college. Home is 18 miles from rhe college. Rather than drive home, then drive back, I took myself out for a leisurely lunch at the Singer Hill Cafe- two blocks from the doctor office. I had a turkey wrap with humus instead of cheese. Oh yum! And sesame slaw, and cups of tea, all in a light-filled, airy setting, with pleasant music playing in the background. I settled in a nice old overstuffed sofa and pulled out the laptop. No wifi access, so I got in about three hours of delicious, delightful writing time! What is it about writing in a public place that feels so self-indulgent and satisfying? Is it the freedom from the nagging of housework? The vibes of life's rich pagent parading by? The vanity of appearing busy and intelligent? (Naw - if anyone even noticed me, they probably thought I was playing solitaire.)

Anyway, the time flew. I made it to the Doctor's appointment in good time, and got a clean bill of health. She suggested that I should walk outside half an hour a day - in the daylight - five days a week. Also a light box and some extra vitamin D. I'm up for that. DH is already making plans to build a box.

When I got home, I hung my sling chair in the walnut tree. I settled into it, and listened with some trepidation as the dead limb from which I swung creaked ominously. Then it creaked again. I began cautiously to gather my feet under me when CRACK_! down it came! It didn't land on me and I fell on nice cushy bark mulch. Lucky, lucky me! So I brough the whole apparatus over to the apple tree. The limb is much lower. My butt barely clears the ground, but I'm not worried about a long and jarring fall.

We went for a little walk with friends in a local bird sanctuary on Monday afternoon.

The wild roses are blooming. What romance. What poetry. What a lovely place to live!