Wanna know why I’ve not written lo these many weeks? Because spending a majority of your waking hours taking care of four boys ages ten to sixteen (and one adorable dog) will turn your brain to pudding and leave you with barely enough energy to watch TV much less type words onto a screen.
Near the end here, I managed to build up some kind of childcare muscles and I made a quickie website for a client that resulted in me having enough money to pay my mortgage for the next three months.
I did this while wrangling Tibbles, which to me is impressive as fuck.
Also, there was a wedding. And a bookclub. And a farewell to Walter & the Portland contingent.
Some other things might have happened. I can’t remember. At one point I redid my portfolio because I was afraid I was gonna have to get a real job, but I think I might have held that off for the time being.
I didn’t go on any dates, but I spent a lot of time with my friends.
I decided that Jenny Lewis’ “The Voyager” was my favorite album I didn’t pay enough attention to last year.
I wrote zero things and if you could fit inside my chest you’d feeeBl how weird that is, how it makes me feel like my skin doesn’t fit right and my brain is sad. All the thoughts and words sit heavy in my lungs like a weird sort of congestion I can’t medicate or cough away.
But you know what? All that is in the past, because yesterday was the last day of Tibble Summer. School, finally, starts Monday, and tonight I am kicking off Angry Hermit season with bourbon, Reeses’ peanut butter cups, and a marathon of WhoreBus with FFJ.
Did you miss me? I’m back!