I’ve been really distracted lately. Can’t really say it’s anything in particular, just life. I find myself getting caught up in a project and forgetting to come up for air; when I finally do it’s with a sense of disorientation. Brain-fogged is not a good look for me.
It’s been very difficult writing anything during this time. I’ve tried a few times, but… let’s just say the results have underwhelmed me.
This week I’ve made a promise to myself – I’ll do what needs doing, but in moderation. No diving into a project for 6 hours and coming out glassy-eyed and exhausted. It’s no fair to the felines, nor my sweet devoted man.
Besides – judging from the increased intensity (and volume!) from the Yowler, this behavior has not pleased him. As far as he and Cleo are concerned, my whole purpose in life is to be there for them, playing my role of home base. So why am I constantly with my nose in a notebook, a book or the computer? What’s with the disappearances on weeknights?
I’m very glad they aren’t literate cats, and prefer to lounge in fleece rather than read the classics – otherwise I’d be wary of their getting ideas and taking desperate measures a la the Lilliputians in Gulliver’s Travels…
