NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
I have tried and failed numerous times to write this post. In my gut, that sounds like my typical slacktard hyperbole, but it’s true.
NOT REALLY QUARANTINED DAY ____.
I have tried and failed numerous times to write this post. In my gut, that sounds like my typical slacktard hyperbole, but it’s true.
“Mary, Mary, why you buggin’?”
“Proud Mary keep on burnin’.”
“Hail Mary, etc., etc…”
I promise this has something to do with something, but I’m not there yet.
The same, the same, the same, the same, the same. Some days, everything feels the goddamn fucking same. Pardon that language, but some days everything truly does feel the same. Until it doesn’t. But then it’s back to the same. Know-what-I-mean?
One of the worst things about my brain—and there are many—is that I don’t see the future. That’s not some suicide watch bullshit, that is just me saying that beyond the vision of my son graduating high school and moving on to college in a few years, I see nothing other than what is on my calendar next week.
Not sure what happened to me this week, but I was off my game on multiple fronts. Usually, when that happens, a walk in the woods with my camera does wonders to get my mojo going. Or at least my jo. Sadly, this week offered up a variety of fails.
My sprained ankle is all but healed, and I can walk and climb stairs normally again. Riding my bike is no problem. Except that riding my bike is a problem.
My life, am I right?
The more things fail to change; the more things stay the same.
I’m starting to sound like a broken record, or a corrupt file for you youngsters, but I find myself —yet again—playing shit show catchup.
Wednesday night as I looked at the next day’s schedule of Dad duties, house duties, and a mid-afternoon appointment with my mind bender, I made the decision that I would get up with the dogs at 5:45 AM, get them fed and outside to poop, then immediately get out for a ride. This would have me home in plenty of time to get B to his morning conditioning session at the soccer fields.