My brain’s gone walkabout again.
Don’t know where, exactly. When I look inside my own head, I see mostly fog.
Maybe it’s the new year making me fuzzy (August is my new year).
The chickens, geese and keets seem more important than writing.
I can’t seem to get enough sleep.
Maybe it’s the weather.
Maybe it’s my disorganized office.
Maybe it’s my hormones.
Maybe it’s astrological.
Maybe it’s nothing at all.
I’ll be back when I’ve got something to say. Or when my office is clean.
Whichever comes first.
(Cross-posted from Cuentos – at Laurie’s suggestion.)