I tried to write a post today, but all that was coming out was yucky stuff that will really drag a person down. And on such a nice sunny day, I just couldn’t do that to The Internet. Plus, Ruthie has turned into a flakey napper, and now I am dealing with my bitter disappointment that I’ve had less than an hour to myself, which hardly seems enough to recharge me during such a shitty week.
The Crazy has officially entered the house, and The New Jen is nowhere to be found. I must find my sword to fight the good fight.
Pray that I clearly see my enemy, and leave all innocent bystanders in peace.
Be warned: what you see here is not my best work. It is what Anne Lamott describes in Bird By Bird as a series of “shitty first drafts.” Blogging dragged me kicking and screaming out of creative constipation by getting me to actually write. So I do that. A lot. Without worrying about every word choice or comma placement.
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