Another One

Well, that's disappointing. There I go off on some sort of stream of consciousness piece, and then I find out a paragraph or two in that I haven't managed to type out a damned thing

That's just irritating. Oh well.

Here i go again though, the curtains on the wall being transparent as always, and this ever present wall of gray in the sky above me seeming to loom. I suppose it's a ceiling. Whatever. I just want a blue sky and a sunny day.

Or is that what I just keep telling myself? I'm not entirely sure. I think it might be the actual problem, but I can't figure it out until the sun deigns to actually try shining on down.

Christ there's a lot of dishes in the sink downstairs. I should really clean them today. There is a part here tomorrow after all which I'm not entirely sure I'm looking forward to. I don't know why, but I seem to be looking forward to it with the same sense of abstract dread that... Is today Friday?

Shit. It's only Friday. Why do I keep thinking it's Saturday. Quirky's not on HSN til tomorrow. Why the hell am I still up? I should have gone to bed hours ago. I finished my scene in the plot hours ago, and I've just been sitting here, diddling around. What a waste of potential sleeping tme. I continue though. Whatever.

Brain. I think that I want to go somewhere else. Somewhere warm. Where it's happy. And there's not a puddle in my car, or laundry I have to do. I hate doing laundry. God.

I think that I need to figure out what it is I'm looking for. It's a very slowed down thought process I am suffering from right noww. Really odd, and hard to track. I need to think but it's fuzzy. What can I say?