Some field notes:

In the category of small catastrophes: a sense of urgency that gets stretched out and weakened by too much time. It is better to do first, think later.

Maybe it is the moon, after all.

There are days when I feel like I don't *do* anything; everything feels like some form of distraction from the thing, unknown, that I am supposed to be doing. As though I am in a waiting room, reading a little bit of Us Weekly and then a little bit of National Geographic, ignoring the book I brought with me, texting someone, restless and a bit afraid to hear my name be called. But then there are days, that don't look any different at the outset, where everything feels exactly right. I make my bed and think "perfect," and I send a text message that seems perfect, also.

I am interested in conducting a prolonged, contemplative study of why, given similar stimuli, similar circumstances, my feelings toward the substance of my days can vary so widely.