Things to do, things to do. I should think about how I want to decorate the house for Hallowe'en, and what food and drink we're going to provide at the Hallowe'en party, and whether to do extra decorating for the party. I should make a list of chores to be done in and around the house. I need to come up with a list of questions to ask K.T. - we're participating in a Metajournals topic wherein journallers interview each other. (Yes, of course I'll let you know when it's been posted.) A guy I work with gave me his novel to read, so I should do that.
I was feeling pretty good yesterday morning, but around lunchtime, the tendon in my upper inner thigh started to ache from the abuse it received bowling. (No one else I know ever complains about an ache in that spot from bowling, but I get it every time. I can't figure out what I'm doing wrong, though.) It got worse and worse slowly during the afternoon, and last night every time I turned over I woke up from the pain. Damn it, I had honestly intended to go to the gym today, but I can barely walk this morning! Well, I took a prescription-strength anti-inflammatory, so hopefully that will help.
I have a dentist appointment this morning. Just a basic cleaning, don't worry. The appointment isn't until 9:40, and since the dentist's office is right next door, I won't need to leave the office until 9:30. But I'm using it as an excuse not to go over to the testing lab until late. I feel sortof guilty about it, and yet - to be able to spend an hour at my own desk, not too guilty.
Absolutely, I agree, this is a lame entry. I have a moderately lame life, and I like it that way, to be honest. Do you really want me to tell you about the new computer game I bought and spent most of yesterday evening playing? No, I didn't think so.
I know, you're looking for something a little deeper. Self-inspection, self-analysis, heavy emotional content. But it's hard to be introspective this early in the morning, sitting at my office desk, and anyway, my emotions are running comfortably shallow at the moment. I'm not torturing myself over anything, not worried about anyone, not madly and secretly in love. (I'm madly and openly in love, but no one wants to read about how much I adore my husband, except perhaps my husband, and maybe not even him.)
At the very least, I could try to be funny. But I'm not funny in writing. Not very often. I make funny faces - ask any of my friends - and I've been known to pun, but I don't write humorously. That's hard. Sometimes I try, but I never know whether I'm succeeding. I thought I'd done a great job with the spider story but no one said whether they agreed with me. (I didn't really expect you to - I don't write pamie every time she makes me giggle, after all.)
Ah, well. A lame entry. It's happened before, it'll happen again. When you post on a regular, scheduled basis, you have to expect these things. Now, since I forgot my breakfast this morning, I'm going to go in search of food.
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