I have six unfinished drafts in my “Drafts” section, all with titles but like, one sentence.  So it has become clear to me that I should just start writing stuff, see what happens, NOTHING CAN GO WRONG, RIGHT?  I mean, I’m sure someone out there wants to read about my cats and my patio filled with mostly dead plants and “marine layer” grunge and the fact that I cannot seem to get a decent night’s sleep to save my life right now.  I have projects that I know need doing, like cleaning the aforementioned patio and maybe clean out a closet or dusting anything at all ever.  And yet, this past weekend, I watched all 18 episodes PLUS the live show of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend season 4.  I don’t even LIKE musicals.  (Rachel Bloom is a goddamn genius though and I love her.)  Am I procrastinating?  Tired?  Afraid?

Probably all three.  While the Menopause Saga has gotten better thanks to modern medicine and taking naps on weekends, I’m still kind of being a weird recluse because things just take too much energy.  Shaving my fucking legs takes too much energy.  Clothes are annoying and I don’t want to wear them anymore.  None of these situations are options.  (I mean, they are options for someone, just not me.)  I have been moderately successful at cooking things and driving places and generally getting shit done, but not without resentment.  And then maybe gratitude a little later.  But the space in between those feelings is a little too big (read:  CAVERNOUS) for my liking.

So here we are, World.  I’ll just throw some words out here and see what happens.  What have I got to lose?  Thank you, 3 readers, for sticking with my inconsistent self.  I’ll keep trying because that is all any of us can do.