In the rush to catch up with spring at home, i conveniently forget that it is time to tick-spray all my clothes. I don't want to. I want to go out to the daffodil garden. I want. I don't want.
I don't want to spray my clothes. I also don't want ticks biting me. I do not want Lyme disease.
I throw a drawerful of shirts down the stairs. I hang them up in the woodshed. I spray them. Three hours later, i take them off the hangers and cart them back to their drawer. I throw the next drawer full of undershirts down the stairs. Etcetera. Etcetera.
The civil war of the mind: I don't want. I want. I don't want.