There's the unfinished floor, the food that needs to be cooked, the story to be written, laundry escaping the confines of it's hamper, and a garden in need of harvesting. Sometimes this list is energizing, others, it's... just... endless. There's a wrench in my gut that feels like a fist wringing out a washcloth, I'm working on shaking it out, and hanging it up to dry. Right now, however, I think I'll tackle the garden.