The Ink-Pot and the Palette

It feels very easy, almost tempting, to deny myself all pleasure. I get to reading the news and it isn't long before anything else feels irrelevant, stupid, even sort of blasphemous, you know? Like, how dare anyone enjoy anything when X-Y-Z horrible thing is happening?

I remind myself that it's an affront to nature, God, the Earth (however one views the larger sphere that puts humans in the proper perspective) if I ignore the robins and sparrows and daffodil spears coming up. I remind myself, too, that I can't do a damn bit of good when I'm exhausted on every level. It's not only okay to enjoy the enjoyable parts of life, I think it's necessary, now more than ever.