Breathe
I am now hiding in my most favourite place in the world: bed. There are a million things to do, but i am not doing them. I am procrastinating big style. I think a very large part of me wishes i was on a beach somewhere, or by a swimming pool, with shades and a large tumbler of Long Island Iced Tea, and just thinking NOTHING.
I am really impressed with my ability to procrastinate. I only did all the folding of laundry last night because there was no more space on the beds and Peter had return home. I have cards to write and food to cook, and here i am, lolling about. Pretending to be doing something quite important.
It is very frustrating; the whole of the last week i have had a story spilling out of me, but i have not had the time nor space to write it. I think i will aim to write one story a day come January. Even if it is a shite story it is better than no story at all.
There are plans which are coming together and falling apart by the hour, which leaves me highly distracted. So i've just about given up... i think i need to just give up and just enjoy a bit.
I was at Nick's Warehouse this afternoon as well. It has sort of become my restaurant of choice when i am in town and feel like i could afford some splashy food. Which is not very often. Sometimes i just go there, for a glass of wine and chips. Why not? The wine is better and the chips are real chips. And you have somewhere to sit and people are so lovely to you. Because they really are lovely.
I was with a friend and we were just catching up and chatting. It was the first time i had wine before 6 pm since August, and it was quite delightful. However the consequence is a brain that has been shot to bits for the rest of the day. I looked around and the clientale was lovely but they seemed like they may have once been interesting. Will i ever be one of them? I already probably am.
Right time to boil some spuds and bacon. Hopefully this will shock me into some action.
I am really impressed with my ability to procrastinate. I only did all the folding of laundry last night because there was no more space on the beds and Peter had return home. I have cards to write and food to cook, and here i am, lolling about. Pretending to be doing something quite important.
It is very frustrating; the whole of the last week i have had a story spilling out of me, but i have not had the time nor space to write it. I think i will aim to write one story a day come January. Even if it is a shite story it is better than no story at all.
There are plans which are coming together and falling apart by the hour, which leaves me highly distracted. So i've just about given up... i think i need to just give up and just enjoy a bit.
I was at Nick's Warehouse this afternoon as well. It has sort of become my restaurant of choice when i am in town and feel like i could afford some splashy food. Which is not very often. Sometimes i just go there, for a glass of wine and chips. Why not? The wine is better and the chips are real chips. And you have somewhere to sit and people are so lovely to you. Because they really are lovely.
I was with a friend and we were just catching up and chatting. It was the first time i had wine before 6 pm since August, and it was quite delightful. However the consequence is a brain that has been shot to bits for the rest of the day. I looked around and the clientale was lovely but they seemed like they may have once been interesting. Will i ever be one of them? I already probably am.
Right time to boil some spuds and bacon. Hopefully this will shock me into some action.
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