Only and a Return

I opened my notebook to see that I was only on page fifty. Not on page fifty, but only there, with sixty-plus pages left to fill. That framing got me wondering, would another notebook give me greater joy? Maybe, but the pen felt good against the grain of the page, the ink shined on it, and I couldn't find anything not to enjoy there. It reminded that it's a poor worker who blames his tools and I…