I keep thinking I might think of something to blog about.
I’m not sure if I’ve lost my creativity or if there really is nothing to say about my life. Some things are off-limits, of course. Some things are boring. Who wants a recitation of the monotony that is a full-time job, a dog who eats inedible stuff if you aren’t careful, cooking dinner (every night! so grueling!) and laundry? Really, laundry is the least of it . . . I don’t mind except that I ran out of laundry detergent.
My husband has introduced me to Duck Dynasty which makes me laugh so loudly that I can’t hear what comes next. So, there’s that, but watching television is hardly interesting to relay, right?
My house still looks like Thanksgiving with a little Halloween mixed in. Houses on our street have Christmas lights and I see Christmas trees through their front windows but I just can’t seem to shake my grinchy lethargy. It’s hard to feel like Christmas when it’s sunny and the flowers are still in bloom. I’m also afraid that Lola the Dog will eat our Christmas ornaments, so we’ll have to protect the tree with a dog-fence thing we got when she was a puppy.
And the idea of decorating for Christmas makes me feel like a loser because my garage needs to be unpacked and sorted and organized and cleaned up. I never really did get it fixed up after we moved, so there are still empty moving boxes sitting about. The neighbor is selling me some shelving units, so I ought to get right on that.
Except, of course, for this full-time job that interferes with garage organizing.
And this weekend, a final soccer tournament for the year. I’m not exactly sure where it is, but I’m sure it’s at least a thirty minute drive and it involves two games and an end-of-the-year pizza party between those games. So, that will keep me busy . . . there’s also a game on Sunday.
I’m reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (for the first time ever) and then have a couple of memoirs lined up. All I really want to do is read and eat brownies, but woman cannot live by books and brownies alone. Alas.