So, yeah. Am done with this year already. Just a big ole nope.
Might be the 16 degrees [F] outside or might just be me.
Rejections galore. Work is draining my batteries far faster than I can recharge and generally, just a mental feeling that none of this is worth it.
Eating guacamole off my fingers with the promise, to myself, I’ll eat an apple because healthy something something.
My cat is doing well. There. Something positive.
Oh, am tentatively researching Wyoming for a possible sequel to a novel no one’s read yet, let alone gone through looking for grievous errors.
Rewriting several short stories but am not sure I am helping so much as making them even more not publishable. Sigh.
Head is as empty as my rotting gourds sitting out on the giant wooden spool beneath the apple trees. I do plan to try and turn them into bird houses. I do have plans and schemes that way.
The world grinds onward and I want to go to hell already. Is that so bad?
Trying to make light of my depression so it gets confused. Hope it works.
ANN WUEHLER 