I've wanted to write for quite a few days. That old familiar itch inside my fingers, the need to reach out and type something, all the symptoms of needing to write without the inspiration to say a thing.

I hate it when that happens.

And yet there's always things to say. Little mundane things happen each and every day, big things that irritate me, small things that annoy me, sniffles that stop me... Yet here I sit waiting for inspiration to strike.

Maybe the problem isn't a lack of inspiration, but a need to understand that one doesn't need to be inspired to write. So, write I will, even without the inspiration.

I'm ill. I'm not sure if it's allergies (again) or if it's an actual cold. Green snot buildup has me waking up in the middle of the night to blow my nose. Dry and scratchy throat has me coughing when I'm not blowing my nose. And through it all the only thing I can think of is last year when my yearly October cold is a month older.

YaY for me. (said in a sarcastic manner, of course)

I've decided I don't like my job. Not the job itself, in all actuality, but the GM part of my job. I don't like a boss who teaches me the wrong thing, then acts like it's gospel. I also don't like a boss who makes comments about how 'godly' she is. It's quite annoying.

The kids are going to be here this weekend. I don't know how I feel about that because the house is always a mess after they leave and J just doesn't feel the need to clean. I'm not quite sure why. I think there's the possibility that he thinks I should be the one to cook and clean. It's something to do with the 'wife' label.

Unfortunatly for him, he doesn't understand that I admitted to being a clean-o-phobic when I first met him. True, my house was never as bad as this house is, but I also didn't have another person in the house making messes. I just kinda picked up after myself when I got done with what I was doing. Something that he doesn't do. I think it's a penis thing.

I'm starting to lose interest in the computer and find interest in knitting and watching TV. Interesting, considering how I've never really been interested in TV at all. I'm not quite sure where this interest is coming from, but it's fun to sit here and do nothing. I think I'm just growing up and getting lazy.

I don't even walk much anymore.

I attribute that mainly to the fact that my tendons hurt most of the time because of my shoes. I need new ones but I'm not sure if I'll be able to get them. After all, we're broke, as usual. I find it odd that all we do is be broke. No matter how hard I work, we always end up broke. J doesn't give me his paycheck, no matter how much I ask.

That being the case, I can't take care of the money.

I hate that.

Anyway, I'm getting tired of typering, so I'm gonna hang up my 'pen' for now.