I'm watching TV with mum and pretending to write while waiting for my laundry to be done. Everytime I have to do laundry I remember that we moved into the crappy apartment we're in because it had a washer and dryer hook-up. But then we never bought a washer and dryer, and so I still have to cart my laundry over to my parents once or twice a week if I want clean underwear. It's cheaper than going to a laundry mat.
I've been having really awesome writer's block lately (please mind the sarcasm) so it's been a pretty down time around the tiny apartment I call hell. I work short shifts a few days a week making chump change and they're early shifts. Jeremy works during the day, and the shift changes occassionally but his latest shift is only till ten at night. I generally work from five or six until ten or eleven. Even if he's on the first shift he still doesn't get home until 4:30-5. That leaves me five hours, roughly, of sitting at home and talking to myself because I have no friends and no life. It's also winter and ridiculous out, oh and fuel costs an arm and a leg (rough estimate) so I have nothing to do and nowhere to go.
Seems like a great time to write and be productive and finish at least one freaking story and see if some crap sci-fi mag is interested. Instead I re-watch Arrested Development (God knows it's not a waste of time, that show is amazing) and pretend to write.
I actually get out some source material, I grab some notebooks with half-finished sentences, etc. but to no avail. I just end up reciting the episodes practically verbatim and feeling very very very sad about my life.
Or writing a blog post.
