No rush

Mid-morning and everyone is out - at work, or at school, or at the shops. I have the place to myself. The rain clouds clear, and the ground begins to dry before my eyes. I sit out the backdoor and drink my first cup of tea of the morning. This is a good example of bliss, and perfection. I put the washing on, and I talk to RockRock - who slevers all over my trousers. I tell RockRock what I'm thinking - that this is perfect and I am happy. He looks up at me with big brown eyes, and slevers some more on my trousers. 'What shall I do today?' I ask the dog. He just nuzzles into me. A flock of cockatoos squawk overhead. A pair of galahs pass over. A tiny black and yellow pointy-beaked bird flutters and dives for insects, lands on the tin fence, tap dances for a moment, then flits off again. I soak in the sunshine while I think about it. This is perfect, and there's no rush.