Good afternoon. I’m ensconced (I love that word) at my local coffee shop, wincing from nerve pain, and <praying> my laptop works quickly enough. Having gently devoured my apple hand pie and sipped my gorgeous flatwhite, I’m here despite my no-going-out rule of late. It’s too expensive to leave the house. But, when you’re terrified of a possible toilet breaking, then add the mortification of the bedframe finally giving, you leave. It was the smart thing to do. Right?
And how did your morning start off?
I’m not even mad; everyone has one of these days. Since I have a tendency to overdo it on my rest days, why not have the Powers That Be dain this be the day for me? Perhaps I had it coming. Things have been going so well <please insert your heaviest sarcasm>.
My body has decided it’s returning to a previous setting labeled “Extreme Burnout” and I am displeased by this decision. I thought we were past this, body. While a factory reset wasn’t possible, I thought removing the bartender_run.exe.2021 program would please you. No more 40-60 hour work weeks. No more coming home at 3AM. No more annoying or lecherous men. Do you need new parts? That’s a bit out of my price range, and I’ve yet to see my Bionic Woman dreams fulfilled. Allegedly, when your body has decided it has had enough enough, it will just whole hog break down without considering your feelings. Rude.
So, making the most of my time in a fairly distraction-free zone. Plenty of writing opportunities exist if I can wrap my brain around them. I’ve signed up for at least a dozen newsletters from hardworking individuals who do the legwork of finding gigs such as article writing, paid writing contests, and more. Ignoring the searing pain, <seriously, now?!> has muscled out my creative abilities. It’s a bitch.
That’s all I have to contribute. A bit of reflection and complaining. Take care of your bodies, folks. It’s the only one you have.
#writer #writing #pain #nervepain #concentration #coffee #coffeeshop
Tales from the Latchkey Kid 