I have sat here all morning trying to think of what I could write about today.
Well that sounds a bit dramatic really, it has probably really only been a little over and hour, hour and a half tops I suppose, but when the temperature has already reached thirty two degrees and it is not yet half past eight an hour or so can feel like all morning.
To help with my inspiration I have trawled through my Facebook feed countless times and read a few blog posts that popped up along the way. Sadly all that did was make me feel like the world was full of writers with much better ideas than I. Which I guess at the moment is exactly the case.
In a few short days the end of the month will have passed and November will begin. November. The month when wanna be writers the world over put their finger tips to keyboards and bang out fifty thousand words towards the novel of their dreams.
I have lamented greatly as to whether I would bother this year or not. I vaguely remember what it felt like all those years ago when I actually managed to complete the challenge. Seems like a lifetime ago now mind you. A distant memory faded by all the following years of failure.
Cue even more sighing.
At the moment I feel like the mayor of Struggletown. Anything and everything is more effort than what I can muster. It is ‘all’ just too hard.
Only when I stop and think what this ‘all’ is that I am referring to I feel the over whelming need to berate myself for such ridiculous thoughts. Considering that at the moment we are on #ouradventureofalifetime. Even if it is temporarily on hold I am still free from the normal day to day living that most have to endure.
Or at least to some extent I am. There are no toilets to clean or floors to wash any more. Nor is there a morning school rush to be late for. There are however still mouths to feed (continually I might add), clothes to be washed (more frequently because we have less to wear) and school lessons for me to give.
Oh the sighing.
All in forty degree heat I might add.
All I keep trying to remember is my old mantra of complain I will not, because blessed it what I am.
Because deep down I do know that blessed is what I am. It’s just easier to complain about everything. And by everything I think actually just mean not having a phone.
Which really is all kinds of ridiculous. What kind of spoilt cry baby do I think I am?
It's Tuesday and I have blogged.
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