The checkbox on my habit tracker app says, “Write Something”, an activity which I have not really been overly willing to tackle of late. It’s so much easier to watch episodes of Silicon Valley and play the remastered Geneforge. I have entered full countdown mode.
Spring retreated slightly, and it’s back to being chilly when the sun goes down. I have had to officially embrace middle age this month — my GP has informed me that my hormone levels are confirmed to be doing that thing that most 40-something women’s hormone levels do. This probably explains why I have been tired, depressed, have low motivation, and feel constantly overwhelmed by everything.
I feel incredibly boring having this be the only thing I can think of to write about.
Underneath all that bleah I have had these little bright spots of ideas. The podcast is taking a brief hiatus, but my partner in crime and I have actually been cooking up a few things that at least we will enjoy. I’ve been spending lots of time discussing Big Ideas with the $Spouse. And the secret part of me who wants to write a novel for shits and giggles finally landed on a seed of an idea that I think I could expand, given time to tackle my writing atrophy.
Life keeps plugging on, Monday by Monday. Sixteen Mondays to go.