I am out at the front desk of the library and though just four hours ago this spot was pure chaos, it is now unbelievably quiet. I yawn loudly. I spin in my chair back and forth like a little kid. Fifty years on from it and there sure is a lot of little kid left in me.
One patron comes into the library, and I direct them on their way. A minute later they leave with their three books and we are down to zero patrons.
"It would be nice to write a blog post now."
So I consider what to write for a long time, twirling and yawning and listening to the hum of the building. I can't think of anything to say, and all this nothingness is suddenly too lovely to touch. So I decide I won't write anything right now.
And I take up my pen.
And I do.