I feel like I have nothing interesting to say right now (fingers crossed that means that tomorrow I’ll be out of my blogging funk and henceforth will regularly spurt words of vague interest forevermore).
So why say anything at all? I guess to have a place holder. Hello, person who has stopped here briefly following a link from a comment I’ve made somewhere else.
Life is pretty routine right now. Work is busy. The house is a mess. The dog is not walked enough. The laundry and dishes never end.
I spend evenings and weekends attempting to enjoy time with my children, but primarily just trying to survive it because holy hell our 3 year old is testing us every three seconds and has regressed on potty usage post-surgery and yet is simultaneously a hilarious conversationalist and a little SHIT. And our rapidly approaching 16-month old is a little copy cat of said older brother (but mostly he’s lovely and cheeky and forgivable because he still doesn’t really know better and this learning to walk and talk thing is way too entertaining and adorable).
And I never find the balance between taking care of myself and taking care of them and paying any attention at all to my marriage and that poor damn dog. And forget the house of filth. This is our life. Christ. I’m depressing myself now.
So until something more interesting happens or strikes me (not, you know, literally, hopefully), I’ll be reading instead of writing.