I have a mozzarella sandwich and iced coffee on the way and my stomach is screaming.
I’m drinking water now, but my skin is still dry. I do think it’s just a side effect of the glycopyrolate. Or whatever it’s called.
I may work tomorrow for the overtime, and so I don’t have to next Saturday. Aislyn’s party. She invited her whole class, including Mrs. M. When she passed out the invitations she instructed her classmates not to open them until they got home, so as not to disrupt class. How cute is that? She’s six.
I’m feeling like if I don’t have something cohesive and thoughtful to say, I just shouldn’t say it. Smart? Or just extremely self-conscious?
I’m sure most of my readership would appreciate fewer posts about nothing, right?
And when I say nothing, I don’t really mean nothing. Everything I write means something to me.
But it’s mostly just my thoughts in a jumbled mess. No one wants to see that.
This is what I’m continually wrestling with.
The running topics list isn’t a bad idea, exactly. But it’s canned. It doesn’t stem naturally. I want to be able to take something that comes organically and turn it into art.
I’m unable to finish this post. I can’t concentrate. And I have to go to work in any case. See you later. ☺️❤️