Pithy Shmithy

No pressure on me; seems like my most creative thoughts come upon me when I am busiest. I suppose that makes sense. When I am productive; stuff happens, and I think about it, the happening stuff...profoundly of course. Bustling around, the barn in the early morning, OK maybe not bustling, the frost, or the wind, or the rain, or the horses, or WHATEVER, resonates against my creative angst and the desire to record my revelations burn within. Unfortunately, they never reach the without. In the past I had my laptop in the barn and I could weave the writing of great things around the doing of my morning horse chores. I could lug my computer up to the barn every day, I mean it is a laptop, portable and all. Perhaps lugging is a stretch, since I drive up every morning after I take Jer to the bus. Still, I would have to desert Sheldon, my barn boy, to do the chores alone. All alone, slaving away, shoveling manure, lugging water, sweeping the floors, alone. Sounds a bit like child labor. Child labor, now there is something that would spurn my emotions and charge my fingers to peck away!