ration

As I'm getting accustomed to the cooler temperatures of autumn, I’ve never been in this kind of a rush. You know the blitz to perform all the intended task before the gathering twilight? The prolonged dusk makes me tired. I eat and eat and relegated my salsa exercises at the backburner. Despite my predilections to moan and rant, I’m flicking the right buttons marvelously well. I’m just reading books in a much slower pace than I intended to be when I was in my teens. Although I’m not writing anything deep and profound, there are still the promises of creativity. My grind is quite circumspect at this juncture. The job is to concentrate on the improvised list created as the blueprint for futuristic sheer refuge.