October already!?

Wow, it is October!  The scary thing is we don't know how Curious George got up there. 

Sometimes at night I hear little feet scrambling in the living room and I think I know why now.

I haven't been able to play with "sono in transito" lately and I feel bad.  Even right now I feel the same as when I come home tired and obligate myself to play with Milo; who waits for me at the top of the stairs cause the dead air which escapes the space between the steps forbids him from coming down.  He has no problem going up the stairs though.  Back to my point, I feel like I am forcing it.  I enjoy writting, contemplating the most precise use of diction and syntax to convey meaning is an activity I have been drawn to since I was a child.  Not unlike the artist trying to capture his world and mind through paint on canvass, I feel a pleasureable release of energy when an idea has been most-effectively communicated.  Yet it is hard for me to make time for it.  I am not blaming my busy schedule cause if you really want to do something you do it whether it is five minutes you can squeeze in in-between obligations or in the middle of the night when you have sacrificed an hour of sleep towards this activity which you realize enriches your soul.  You just do it. 

And so, as the clock continues forward and warns me that I only have 30 minutes to walk Milo before getting ready for work, I wonder if the sacrifice has been worth it.  Was what I said meaningful or pertinent?  You tell me.  I will see it as a mental warm up, a way of re-affirming processes of the mind much like you would movements of the body.