The Febarch-Never-Know-When-It-Will- Happen-Desperate-Doodle
March 31, 2023
My doodling life has become rather haphazard of late. The urge to write is waning in my retirement years, which is rather ironic, don’t you think? Back in the days of stay-at-home-momdom, and then working-momdom, I longed for a few quiet moments to yank poetry or doodles from my cluttered brain. Now that I have loads of time to do whatever I want, I’m a slouch! I even chose WRITE for my one word this year in the hope that I would get down to business. Obviously, that has not worked yet. But it’s only the end of March. I still have nine months to spit forth some sort of literary semi-brilliance! Oooooo! Maybe I’m beginning to gestate a little baby book! Maybe by December I’ll be grunting and hoo-hoo-heeing as I push out a cute little bundle of cuteness!
Until that happens I must nourish my creative brain uterus (excuse the weirdness) with great works of literature and strengthening exercises. I need to plan the little cutie’s nursery and knit up a bunch of fun animals (I’m working on a giraffe right now). I need to sit myself down (very easy) and give myself a talking to (also very easy). Then I must DO what I tell myself I need to do (not easy).
Now that I’ve splattered you all with my angst, I shall move on to a less messy topic. Actually, it’s still messy, but the mess is outside of my body, instead of in my brain. I speak of my house. It’s a mess, and I don’t care much anymore. With Bret home most of the time now, I can’t keep up with all the stuff he leaves hither and yon, so I’ve decided to join him. The mess of yarn and knitting nesessities has taken over much of the living room. I keep up with laundry, but not dusting. The dog shares her hair and slobber with us all the time. I just don’t care anymore. As long as I don’t wear my glasses as I wander the house, I don’t see a lot of the crud covering the floors and furniture. It’s nice being calm and carefree!
No photos for this Doodle. I don’t want to gag you!
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