Nothing happening

These last days since I last chanced upon anything to write about, have been dull as ditch water. Attempting to get my arse into gear to do very much has proven a challenge to even do that small thing. Procrastination seems to have taken over where there ought to be activity. Finding my desk covered in cat vomit seems to be the limit of excitement so far today. The other day a dead rat brought in as a gift. The look on Grumbles face, as he sat next to the wretched thing was enough to bring joy to any ones heart. The urge to otherwise swear at and shake my fist at him was somehow dissipated by this innocent being and his way of showing his love. I threw the dead thing in the bin. I would otherwise have buried it, but seeing as it was pissing with rain, the easier option prevailed.

Half of me wants to go out for a swim, the rest of me went for a cycle ride yesterday. It is very nice to 1. have a bicycle back under my arse and 2. being able to get around the place without the fag of walking and or relying on the car. The rest of me and I say the rest wants to complete what’s on my list of things to do, be creative and provide myself with a solid reliable income. They are all possible, all feasible and all requiring focus, patience and some hard if not enjoyable work. Plus, it beats having to slog my guts out working 40 hours a week for someone else’s profit.

That it has been bugging me for a while, is sign that I need to write more. That writing calms my mind and is doing so is further confirmation of continuing doing so. That it lifts my spirit away from some unpleasantly black thoughts is added proof to continue doing so. At the same time I am looking to paint again, inspiration though is in short supply. This alone troubles me more than my current bank balance. I have food in the cupboard and enough to cover the next few days, why should I worry? Worrying achieves nothing apart from wrinkles, lost time and upset bowels and who needs any of that?

Did I mention filling my trousers last week?