Could

I could rise from my sitting position, get the tools out of the garden shed, and do the yardwork that’s been beckoning me all week; weeds to pull, suckers to cut back, branches to prune.

I could respond to those pleas from public radio stations in light of recent federal funding cutbacks and send them all some money; I should, too, since I’m a regular listener.

I could take the dog for a second walk of the day and let her sniff the ground to her heart’s content.

I could dig around in my files for the article I want to send to my friend who is recovering from his cancer treatment.

I could scrub down the bathroom shower; I could mop the kitchen floor.

I could write a few letters to far-flung friends.

I could clean out the refrigerator and organize my sock drawer.

I could pack a bag of old clothes I never wear and take them to Goodwill.

I could read some articles in preparation for my fall quarter classes.

I could put on my swimsuit and ride down to the lake for a quick swim.

I could try to fix that sticky door on my bike shed.

I could do my best to replace the hissing water control mechanism in my toilet.

I could organize those hundreds of photographs currently in boxes by putting them in photo albums.

I could meditate for an hour. I could write for a while in my journal.

I could go shopping for vegetables at the nearby Farmer’s Market.

I could wrap a band-aid around my blackened big toenail so that it doesn’t fall off.

I could empty the water in the basement dehumidifier and make sure it’s running at the proper humidity level.

I could consolidate the waste paper baskets into the main downstairs trash can, take the old bag out to the garbage, and replace the one that goes under the kitchen sink.

I could, but I won’t.