Several days have slipped past since I wrote anything of consequence. Once again I find myself sitting in the dark of the junk room, propped in front of the computer a tapping into the keyboard. The clock is ticking towards midnight again.
Weare one day away from a four day weekend a the easter weekend a which hadnat occurred to me at all until the rest of the household started making various adeath by chocolatea creations in the kitchen (and leaving me the washing up).
(an hour passes while I get sucked into an internet rabbit hole)
How the hell does this always happen?
(you canat hear me sigh a I just sighed)
I had all sorts of ideas earlier a things I might write about. Somehow that all went sideways as soon as I started writing. I end up catching myself a a voice whispers anobodyas interested in any of thata. Itas always the introspective stuff. The good stuff.
I donat know. I just feel like Iam on a bit of a hamster wheel at the moment. Each day is groundhog day. I need to do an intervention on myself a go out for lunch with a friend a a walk in the woods a anything really.
I am my own worst enemy though a Iall get up tomorrow, start doing chores, then become consumed with work, and before I know it, the day will have gone, and Iall have spent yet another day in the junk room.
Who wantas to go for coffee tomorrow?