One of the things that I was pumped about when I was ordering Jenny was the fact that I'd get to write ALL THE TIME. But now that Jenny's here and I'm somewhat settling down and growing accustomed to her being around, I'm disappointed to find that I'm either just too tired to write (even in bed) at the end of the day, or that I just don't have the inspiration. How poo.
Just before leaving my miserable day at work earlier, I made few minutes to take a look at a few of my old posts. By chance I happened to click on a link that took me back to the time when Bar loaned me a pooter to keep in my room. Of course I was full of energy and anectdotes then--I was young and carefree! But what am I now?
Reading back on the words I had then, I felt like I had so much more to say in the past than now. I rather thought that I had some profound things to say. But now, nothing except a lame excuse about being too tired to be good.
I'm tired. I'm going to sleep now.
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