This morning just as I was about to get into my groove with my Julia Cameron morning pages, an odd thing happened. I was writing away, planning my take-over of the world and my eventual, ultimate happiness when It happened. Without warning my coffee was everywhere: on the arm of the adirondack chair, my exposed leg (because the front porch is private enough for me to venture out in my tshirt), my iPhone. For a minute I was scared and confused. Did my coffee exploded? Was there some terrible creature that had made its home in the muscadines and who was no terrorizing me? Was the house haunted and telling me to get out?
Then I realized it was just a cluster of muscadine grapes that had fallen into my mug. No biggie.
*adding picking muscadines to the weekend chore list*