I love feeling that I accomplished nothing only to find that I’ve had a fairly productive week. It’s a little confidence boost that is always appreciated.
I got my taxes done, I had dinner with my husband every night – either at home or at his work – I spent time with Jason, I checked in on Heather and got her settled back into her house, I perfected my screw driver work on a pair of college boys; hint: you’d think it was all in the wrist action but it’s better to lead with the shoulder. There’s more power behind it and you end up exuded less effort. Exuding? Is that the right word? I hate second guessing myself. I know my grammar and spelling isn’t the best on this blog but the idea wasn’t to filter y thoughts. I’m just here to tell you my story. Sometimes I’m too tired to think straight and sometimes I just have nothing to talk about (or I’m not ready to talk about). Like this week. Nothing exciting or noteworthy has happened. That’s not a bad thing and I’m certainly not going to jinx it by saying that I’m happy or settled…
Although I guess I just did.
In any case, I have nothing to talk about and that’s not a bad thing. People are dying, my family is content, work is productive. That’s all. That’s really all.
As always, dear readers,