I am a stress case today.
There are lots of things I could theoretically be doing to distract myself.
There’s my house, for starters. There is flour on my carpet. There is flour on the kitchen table. There is flour on my kitchen floor.
There are books to be read. I’m printing one right now. (Not mine.) The book is about a crazy person, which is probably a good match for me today.
But I’m not reading it. Because a book is not distracting enough to contain the crazy.
There are dishes all over my kitchen. I still have two Christmas presents to finish for two people I love dearly. (!!!)
There’s a short story I have to finish by Saturday and an entire novel rewrite to do.
Yeah, that’s not happening today.
Even barring the actually productive stuff, there are things I could be doing.
There is terrain I’ve been meaning to paint, and even more models waiting for me to get around to them.
And failing all else there are video games to play.
But no. Even video games are not engaging enough to distract me.
Because I am a stress case. I am so ready to be out of limbo-land.
I had been doing so well, too. Most days I’ve been keeping the faith.
But not today.