It's only been a few minutes since my last post, but I feel a compulsion starting. I sit here writing this while my son is hell bent on destroying the studying, and my little girl is babbling in her high chair, the dishes are piled up from last night's dinner (anniversary, six years = left overs. I am a great wife...) and all I can think about is writing. I want to write my novel, I want to write my assignments, I want to write on FB.
It is so cold, that I will go close up the house, shut the windows close the blinds and draw myself into my little cocoon, and start to wonder how my life ended up like this. I'm not sad nor am I depressed, I am just a little bit blue. Surely, the warmer weather will come and my blueness will beat a hasty retreat.
dishes are calling...
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