Neglect, disconnect, correct?

My latest slapdash posts succinctly reflect my state of mind at the moment. The tomatoes are rotting off the vines in the backyard, while the mint and basil have gone to seed. I'm proud of the summer's work but the red rotten dots on the dirt remind me of my current neglect.

[Omniscient Narrator: In Sophie's dream, currently underway, something is chasing her, or she is chasing it. Her paws and whiskers are twitching irregularly; her breathing is shallow and then suddenly she sucks in her stomach. She's jumping toward or away from something. Her tail is still but her ears are moving back and forth. In her dreams is she outside, as in a previous chapter of her life, scrapping with neighborhood cats? Or is that time now gone from even her imagination, goldfish-style?]

I'm rattling through some things, writing checks and attending meetings, but I'm somewhere else. (Are my ears and whiskers twitching?) I vacillate between the extremes of over-engagement and disconnection. There's got to be something in the middle; the answer is always in the middle, but the nature of the middle is that you don't know when you're there, because you can't see the sides.

Or maybe this checked-out feeling is actually what others term "normal" - maybe the fact that I'm no longer constantly thinking about work-crap when I am not at work is a good thing; that focusing on a banjo-picking finger pattern can use some of my powers for good instead of evil.

This is the skin I'm in. Hoping I wear it well.