Sometimes, You Move.


Sometimes you move, and it takes up entirely more time than you thought it was going to. And sometimes you have an infant who doesn’t like sleeping through the night, and your partner in child-rearing is still in New England while you’re in charge of waking up 6 times a night to stuff the pacifier back into said infant’s mouth. And sometimes you have a toddler who is highly demanding, since she misses her dad and she misses her ‘stuff’, but the dad is in Maine and the stuff is in Maine and you’re playing the Distraction Game by overpromising your time and focus every day. And sometimes you lose your glasses twenty minutes before you’re meant to catch the bus to the airport, so you wind up flying cross-country while your glasses stay with your stuff and your spouse up in freaking Maine. That’s extra unfortunate, since you need your glasses to write, and writing is the only thing that makes you feel productive and connected to the outside world.

Those are all times when you keep opening your browser and typing in ‘Google Docs,’ just to stare at a blank white digital page for ten minutes before realizing you have been defeated. You have nothing worthwhile left to give, since you are slightly delirious with exhaustion – to the point where you keep seeing little moving dots at the edge of your vision and every time you think it’s a bug, but blessedly in this house it never is.

Sorry, blog, for skipping last Wednesday blogday. Sorry, blog, because I will likely skip the next one as well. Sorry, Rocky Flinstone, for failing to rehash S3E3 of My Dad Wrote a Porno. Sorry, reader (hi Mady), for failing for deliver anything entertaining.

Soon I’ll be back to my usual nonsense.

Until then, I will sleep. At least in brief, half-hour bursts.

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