Moodling: To dawdle aimlessly, to idle time away. Sounds good, doesn’t it?
Napoleon often moodled about for a week at a time after his big battles, doing nothing but playing with his children or reading trash. Our imaginations need regular periods of moodling or we become rigid and stagnant.
There is an old school house on my block, and late every afternoon I walk Lucky Dawg and Rebel down there.
I’d been eyeing the swing-set for months, but it seemed too infantile to actually get on and swing.
So, while the “Dogkids” run about, sniffing every blade of grass, I sit on a park bench mulling over things I need to do. My mind wears me out sometimes. It usually goes like this: “Get the car washed, pick up some dog food, send a card to Leah, print photos for Jack, put out new mulch, pick up dress at the cleaners, yada yada” until I am exhausted and depressed.