extra time

I stopped and lingered on the suspension bridge two blocks away, the Saturday mid-afternoon sun cutting through a San Diego cold spell – hot knives and butter – you know.

Two little libraries along the walk had offered up a book each, and I carried them back to a room awash, piled with books, thinking, perhaps, maybe I can turn the computer off earlier in the coming days and linger in the lop-sided recliner, the nifty floor lamp illuminating hour upon hour of the chance for reading.

What’s to stop me? Other than me. And extra time spent on bridges.