Today I am tired. I know I left some poor woman riding through the woods to seek sanctuary in a cottage, and I’m still working through measures nine and ten of The Wild Rider. She’ll have to wait. It’s late, and I’m trying to get through my evening without burning supper. Some days it’s like this. You get the first take of the Beethoven, warts and all. Sometimes giving your best is a noble act, and sometimes just showing up is all that matters. Today, I’m just showing up. Tomorrow is another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment