I'm running out of new material to write about. I still have cancer that's stable. My husband and son still enjoy doing nothing more than playing World of Warcraft. I'm still hating World of Warcraft. My need for pattern was thrown by our basement flooding over a week ago. But I have touched on all of these events in recent posts.
Sometimes just thinking about things sucks my energy, or what's left of it. I was kind of proud of myself this past weekend, digging out our crawl space, carrying boxes of old magazines (uphill) to the recycling bin, just like a normal person. I love that word "normal," even though I have no clue what it means.
It's nice to be useful once in awhile. I like the word "useful" too, especially when it can be applied to me. Generally, I feel like a hindrance instead of a help. If you think I'm just fishing for compliments, you should have seen me trying to fold boxes for the random items to be recycled, stored, or given away. Literally, for every two or three my son was able to fold, I could maybe get through one. It was like an "I Love Lucy," or "Peanuts" sketch, with me as either Lucille Ball or Charlie Brown.
Now that I think of it, I'm in pretty good company with Lucille Ball and Charlie Brown.