Jumble.

My mind is nothing but a huge laundry list of tasks and obligations. While so many funny things go on throughout a day, it takes me every bit of energy just to remember to set my alarm before going to bed, let alone remember WHAT happened that day.

I'm over-stretched, over committed.

And five minutes ago I spilled an entire glass of wine all over my dining room table.

Love you, world!

My goal when I first decided to participate in posting every day for the month of November was to actually WRITE. And instead it became a month worth of "uh...wha?" and peppered with complaints and hereabouts. I'm thinking hereabouts isn't even a word. And to that I say a big fat SO WHAT.

I'm going to go lay down now and pretend I'm going to have a good night's sleep, when actually I will lay there until about 2, when I'll finally nod off for awhile, and then wake up every twenty minutes or so.

And tomorrow, on the very last day to post, I will wonder when in the fuck I'll have time to do so.

Aren't I just a cuddly thing right about now?