I'm desperately thinking of something witty or interesting to say. So far, it isn't happening. I'm mainly thinking I have a lot to do, and that I don't feel like doing it. This is not witty or interesting, and to my regular readers it isn't a surprise …
I'm desperately thinking of something witty or interesting to say. So far, it isn't happening. I'm mainly thinking I have a lot to do, and that I don't feel like doing it. This is not witty or interesting, and to my regular readers it isn't a surprise either, is it?
I started writing this last night, ran out of steam and tried again in the morning. It still isn't happening. I'm thinking of writing a list and working through some of it. At that point, with some work done and a space to relax, I might have better luck with the blog.
I had better spring into action and do things or I'm going to be looking at a very slim body of written work for the first half of this year. And if I don't have plenty out there I will have nothing for editors to nominate for the anthology.
We also need to start thinking about the move in serious terms. We started the year with 11 months before us and are already down to 8, with virtually nothing done. Some things, and this includes moving house, as I dimly recall, are better done with plans and time to spare. Writing poetry the day before the deadline is OK, moving house is not.
Last time I moved I borrowed a lorry from work and invited a group of friends for the weekend. They helped with the heavy lifting and it all went well. Of course, the contents of the house have multiplied and I no longer have friends who can lift stuff. It's a depressing commentary on my life.
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