Hello, laptop. I've missed you. I carry you with me nearly every day, but rarely interact with you, anymore. I see you, across the room, while I'm doing my work as a massage therapist, and I think, "soon." Yet, there's never any time. When I do have time, either in between sessions, or at the end of the day, I'm too tired, or fried, or sore, or behind on other tasks to pick you up. I miss you.
I miss writing my newsletters. I miss scouring calls for submissions and browsing my writing morgue, looking for that spark to write a new tale. I miss the thrill of the pressure of meeting a deadline, of racking up those resume points, of exploring my own ideas. I haven't even been journaling... the few dreams I can recall, I jot down in highlights and bullet points. Less than satisfying.
This month, too, is already filled...with work, with work, with work, with parties, with shopping, with wrapping, with holiday cards, with exhaustion, with sleep.
Maybe in January...
