I am wracked with guilt. More like wrapped up in it, like an over-sized quilt of guilt. Why? Because I am writing (my dream, my desire, my love-hate) instead of pursuing cold calls, which will, perhaps, further my effort in finding employment.

Of course, guilt runs rampant and often in my brain. That fine wire of tension that I think perhaps binds my very cellular structure together. Guilt from arriving at the chiropractor's office six minutes late this morning. Guilt from not making a vet appt. for my cat. Actual internal beration (word, or no?) for not attending to the stack of paperwork on my desk. A couple of jabs for not doing yoga and meditation, "which, of course, would help all this. Why aren't you doing that?" On and on and on it drones, occasionally yells and consistently wears me down.

Out, thy spot!

So where does the lovingkindness come in? Good question. Today, I swim in guilt, start this blog, and perhaps, save the day by accomplishing several items on the task list. Tomorrow, I use as a fresh start. As it is.