having turned in all the things, I wonder:

what is this feeling, so sudden and new? I can just read books? And maybe write about them, but I don't have to this week if I don't want to? And I like books, and I like reading them, and really isn't lolling about in springtime with Victorian poetry one of the nicer things a girl could do with her time?

I feel like I just looked up and realized that the sky is really high up there, and that there's a lot of clear open space over my head. Ahhhh. This is so much better.