{69} Blogging is weird.

I’ve definitely reached the point where I’m writing ridiculous things about my life rather than like, actually writing. It feels weird. It’s selfish. People put out beautiful pieces and poetry and I’m like meh. I’m tired.

I promise that I’ll start attempting to write some insightful or at least moderately thoughtful stuff soon. Today was our first day back at work and, while everything went ok (meaning nothing went absolutely horrible but the normal level of bullshit was in full force), I’m beat. I know I have thoughts but I’ll be damned if I could tell you what the hell they are.

So the dog is sitting half on my lap happily working on his vanilla mint chew toy (because of course I’d have a dog that prefers vanilla mint to, I don’t know, any kind of normal flavor that a dog might like) and we’re watching Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. Because sometimes drag queens are necessary.

And in a minute, when my feet stop hurting, I will have a piece of cake.

That’s all I got.