I won't fight you on it; I confess. I'm guilty. Handcuff me, read me my rights, tell me my wrongs, and lock me up with the other bad bloggers. I've neglected you. And I'm sorry.
I often complain about being busy, even though I know I'm no more busy than anyone else (are we all noticing how CRAZY life is getting?). No petty excuses here, other than I've just been physically unable to blog. Although, I always find time each day to read other people's blogs. So please keep showing me yours, even though I've been pretty prudish at showing you mine.
A few things have sucked the minutes from the hours from the days from the weeks lately:
University. I have FOUR more weeks to go on struggle street, before I kiss the rest of the suffering students goodbye,
toss burn my study notes in the garbage, and graduate with my communications degree. These last few weeks have felt like a slow crawl to China on gravel, but I can see the border guards up ahead. And they're still thinking about whether to wave this crazy-eyed woman through.
Rest. I've been seriously knackered lately, and seem to have hit a bit of a 'meh' patch. Life is fine, everyone is well, work and study are busy, the boy is good, the dogs are chewing their bones and doing whatever they do, and I'm over here going... yeah, OK. Now what? I am a person who gets bored extremely easily, and I will admit I've hit a bit fatigued about the general lack of drama and action in my life. Major disclaimer: I am not inviting drama and action into my life. I am simply acknowledging that it is currently elsewhere.
Work. My small business is chugging along and even though I'm trying to stop work from coming in while I finish studying, it keeps on coming in. I am NOT complaining - I love what I do and every new client is a massive win. But between fulfilling bookings and studying I am lucky if I find time to breathe. Is it possible for someone to self-administer CPR?
Nip/Tuck. I have discovered a new TV show that is as addictive as any habit-forming thing I've ever tried. It's actually a reasonably old TV show, which is already off the air, but I managed to burn through seven seasons like wildfire. I simply HAD to know who would end up with who, whose plastic surgery would fall off, who was really the dad of who, whose cancer would go away, whose fight with who would be resolved, who would really turn out to be a lesbian, when Julian McMahon would take his kit off again and... you get the idea. So consider this a warning: if you have an addictive personality and are partial to doctors far too good looking to ever be real doctors (even though my mum had a brain surgeon once who was a total babe) then please stay away from Nip/Tuck. Oh, and can anyone recommend another addictive TV show?
Right. So that's my update. Underwhelming, I know! I'll try to blog more soon, but until uni finishes in September, this kind of wafflish baloney may all be I can offer. Sorry bout that... like I said, guilty.