It's getting late.
I'm fighting the urge to bang my head against hard things.
I've written and abandoned several little essays.
Nobody cares.
Plus, I have messes to clean.
I would like to write about the amber necklace.
I would like to write about the new shoes.
I would settle for writing about today's visit with my mother.
I would settle for an essay about my daughter's Spanish homework.
I would even be okay with writing about cleaning houses.
But nope. It's not going to happen.
It's all about the scurrying around and never getting anything completely done.
Piles of dirty laundry to be washed, piles of clean laundry to be folded, piles of dishes, but Jesus Christ, I haven't I been doing laundry and washing dishes all fucking day?! How can there still be laundry and dishes?!
HOW?!
The relentless drudgery is eroding my soul. Okay, that's a bit over the top.
No. No it's not over the top. It's the complete true story.
Drudgery is my life and it sucks.
So, good readers, I'm off to oversee the completion of homework, I'm off to do the goddamned dishes, again, I'm off to wash and fold every fucking towel, t-shirt, and sock.
Because it's very important.
Very.
Important.
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