Da Bomb


Hey! It’s me! I’m not even Blogging From Bed, I’m actually fully awake and sitting upright in a chair! I’m dressed even!

Today has been a productive one so far. Last night I came home from work exhausted and fell sleep from 8:00-11:30 pm. Then I was awake from 11:30-4:30. Then I woke up again at 8:45 am immediately in a panic because I had a hair appointment at 9.

So, cumulative total of 8 hours of sleep but grasped in small unsatisfying snatches  between long bouts of sleeplessness, where I lay supine, rolling over every five minutes trying to find a spot, THE SPOT that would lure me into sleep.

I watched the stars outside our bedroom window and I thought and I worried and I thought some more and then I let my mind ramble towards the ultimate of worries, the motherlode: “What happens after we die?”

I then got so panicky that I had to read celebrity gossip for 45 minutes to drown out the massive existential dilemma unfolding in my brain.

(Did you know that Khloe Kardashian might have a different dad than the other two, the divorcee-to-be and the one with the baby? FASCINATING.)

I made it to my hair appointment on time, mainlined some coffee, got a blood test, bought a sweater, came home, decorated for Christmas (YES I said it! It’s ON! Only 40 days away guys!) and that brings us to here and now, where I sit summing all of this up for you, because you know what’s interesting? Hearing someone talk about their errands.

True story.

I’m at a loss for what to write these days, I’ve run out. I sit here and all I can think of is all the shit I need to get done. I try and muster enthusiasm to write about things like how I wasted an precious hour and a half two days ago searching for the perfect plant pot (Why are they all so ugly? I don’t want forest green, or maroon, or a faux-grecian urn, I want colourful stripes or grey and cream chevrons or vibrant glossy turquoise- something, ANYTHING that doesn’t equate me owning a large plant with me covering my couch in protective plastic and owing a poodle named Muffy) 

I don’t want to post crap. I don’t want to post for the sake of posting. I also don’t want to continue writing about how I don’t have time to write.

10 more days guys, TEN MORE DAYS and then my sanity can return and writing can resume and my spare bedroom can stop looking like it’s been yarn bombed.

(And in ten days I can also finally get around to that giveaway I promised)

Thank you for your patience.

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