Sometimes I love writing this blog.
Other times it is my albatross.
I really have absolutely nothing at all of interest to write about. Well, that's not true exactly.
But I have been out of sorts this weekend. I didn't get anything done on my to do list. No laundry, no house cleaning, no nothing. I did go to the gym which felt terrific, and I managed to do a little food shopping, which was necessary.
I also signed up for OkCupid because after a short & sweet distraction I am trying to figure out how to get my dating feet wet again. And I have to start somewhere.
Unbelievably enough I do not have stacks of date requests piling up at my feet. Not because I am not awesome! But more because I really haven't been very genuine about putting that vibe out there. When a guy flirts with me I get sort of panicky and sweaty and usually blurt out something completely inappropriate like "I love lamp" or "Snafghhrty".
Sad but true. I am working on it, I swear. So please, don't be shy - feel totally free to ask me out (uh, that is if you are male, single, & available). I promise that I will recover my entire vocabulary in time.
So yeah.
Oh wait no, I did go out last night with my pal Jo-Jo-Joann. If I was Asian I am pretty sure we'd be Dopplegangers. We go through pretty much the same sh*t, only she dates women and I date men. But we have some pretty similar emotional reactions to stuff. Sometimes it is just nice to talk to your Furby.
And I slept in really late today, which I never do. But that makes me tired all day.
Plus it was a cloudy, cool day and that makes me even more lethargic. So lethargic that I can't really imagine going to work tomorrow.
Which might also be due in part to the fact that I really ought to get a new job. Don't get me wrong - I love where I work. However I am not loving the paycheck. It's too small and living from paycheck to paycheck is getting to be less Bohemian and more boring.
*sigh*
I think that I just need a hot toddy and my bed. Everything will be back to rights tomorrow.
1 comment:
Dear, most of the bohemians were filthy rich... just not the writers.
One must make enough of the dirty money to pamper oneself at least once in a while!
S
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