Lately I’ve switched from writing with pens to pencils, and that’s stirred serious longings for the electric pencil sharpener that was left behind in Atlanta. I hate the thought of buying a new pencil sharpener when there’s this perfectly already good one already in my possession. Never mind that it’s in a box 6,000 miles away.
For weeks now I’ve been a bit fretful about some of the stuff we didn’t or couldn’t bring with us when we moved. I don’t know why. The pencil sharpener is just the tip of the fretting.
I wasn’t in the mood to analyze this mood this morning, so I sharpened my pencil with the old fashioned sharpener and treated myself to some sketch therapy. Which I’m thinking may become a regular Monday ritual, because it was really nice to be out of my head and in my hands for a spell.
My handwriting totally clashes with ink; switching to graphite is one of my better ideas.
