There are always days when coordination between the brain and other parts of the body is far from satisfactory. When ideas were hard to come by, hands were too ready to accomplish anything they were ordered to do. Other times, ideas overflowed while the hands were too lethargic to move.
Today is one of those days. My hands seem to be uncooperative. Its fingers would not type the way they should be. I am not a very good typist unlike professional encoders but two fingers in both hands suffice.
Early this morning, I was invited by cloudy skies for some field work. It was a bit colder than normal so inducing perspiration out of the body was called for. Part exercise and part chore, hacking tall grasses with a long single-bladed knife seemed to be in order. Besides, I had postponed it several times due to bad weather the past days.
Sundays are considered rest days for many people. Farmers, like me, work any day of the week. We could have Sundays on Wednesdays (hump days for many) or any day we feel like it. Sometimes, we forget what day it is for no reason at all: it will always be work the next day.
My hands probably needed a break. They’re probably going on a a silent protest, trying to get their message across by being lazy. Well, that could be an excuse for my whole body to follow suit.