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.