I don’t know where the day went. I got up thinking that I should write at least six minutes today (see previous post) but lo and behold, at 11:30 pm, I haven’t written *anything.* I suppose I can take a day off from writing at least once a week, but if I do that then I would most likely give myself permission to take another day off for some other reason. It’s like exercise to me. I *have* to do it every day or I feel like crap.
Plus, the diabetes…
So, here I am. Typing away and trying to gather my thoughts…
My husband and I have the entire house to ourselves this weekend. Our friend lives up on the third floor. He has shared custody of his eldest daughter and on the weekends his other two kids stays with us. So, for two people who have no kids of their own, we are surrounded by kids for a lot of the time. On those weekends that he has his three kids, his girlfriend stays over – for practically half the week – with her son…who luckily for us, doesn’t stay for that entire week.
I have thoughts about him, which I won’t go into.
My husband had a show tonight…well, when I say “tonight” I mean that I dropped him off at his cast member’s house at 3 pm. So, really, I had more of a “me” day than I anticipated. I don’t remember what I did.
No, that’s a d@mn dirty lie.
I ran errands. That’s what I did.
I planned on dying my hair – stupid grey hair.
I planned on writing.
I planned on taking a walk through my neighborhood.
I did none of these.
Oh, look. My six minutes are up.
I think I’m going to be lame and go to sleep now.