What to Write?

It was the perfect day to sit and write a bit. There were no big plans, no agenda to try to maintain. The sound of the rain on the roof begging to tell its story as it ran in fast drivels down my dirty windowpanes. A toasty fire crackled in the fireplace. Coffee was plentiful, rich, and delicious. Under a handmade Grandma Shirley quilt I sit in my warm and comfortable clothes. A good book sits at my elbow waiting patiently and expectantly for me to open her pages and melt into her story. It really is the perfect setting to write a bit. And yet for all my warmth and contentment, I somehow lack content and inspiration. I'll dive into my book for now and write another day.