So writing. Every day. I am writing. Because today is another day. And I have no idea what to write because my life is dull. I used to have a job about which I could have written but I wouldn’t have done so because that is unprofessional, at least the way that I would have written. I quit when we moved because of the non-driving thing. I don't drive as a courtesy to others because my depth perception is so bad that I can't always tell how far things are away from me. In an effort to not randomly hit things with a vehicle I choose not to drive one. You're welcome.
But you know what? Not working has brought home some truths to me. I really need a fucking job. Like, whoa. Because I am so damn bored I could spit. I spent a small part of yesterday singing a song about a chicken sandwich. I DIDN’T HAVE A CHICKEN SAMMICH YESTERDAY! I was just singing about it. That can’t be normal.
Also, I’ve learned that being a housewife when not married to a raging narcissist isn’t half bad. I mean, it’s not the super best thing that I’ve ever done. I’ve had a job since I was fourteen. I’m not good at not working. But I’m having some fun for the moment. I made Maggie and Mary’s Wild Rice Soup for dinner tonight along with some yummy grilled cheese on whole grain bread. Mrs. IdB wasn’t feeling well and I felt like it would be a good idea after we picked up her prescription to let her spend as much time as possible sitting quietly and not doing work or anything at all. So I made some dinner.
Here’s another thing about food that’s been happening to me lately. As soon as we got moved in Mrs. IdB and I got sick. She got an ear infection that morphed into strep. I just got a wicked cold. And somehow, in the time I was busy trying to keep some fluids in my body and sleep for more than nine seconds because of my stupid cough my stomach shrank. A lot. Because what used to be two servings for me is now one serving. Bodies, how the fuck do they work? Further, I guess I am a vegetarian now or, mostly. Because I’ve been pretty much an herbivore for a few weeks. And that means I’ve got to figure out how to cook things that are not bruschetta.
Finally, it seems I got my knitting mojo back. But I’m saving that to talk about tomorrow…maybe.