There are so many things I could write about.

I could write about how yesterday was my last class in the uni course I’m taking and that I’m so glad it’s nearly over. I could write about the A- I got on my 2nd project.

I could write about how thrilled and excited I am that my friend Sylvie finally married her long-time partner Sarah.

I could write about how my son didn’t take out the garbage – again – and now I have a colony of fruit flies and a remarkably stinky kitchen.

I could write about how the girls and I sat around Sue’s kitchen table last night, scarfing cookies and laughing at the dogs’ antics.

I could write about how much I’m looking forward to my first Chanukah and how sick I am of Christmas music already (I always am, but this year it seems particularly annoying because I’ve chosen a different path).

I could write about how horrible I feel that Rob’s cousin lost her beloved husband yesterday. I could write about a million things.

But my brain won’t cooperate.

It all feels so trite and inane and ridiculous, and none of it is inspiring me to say anything more today. I’m sorry.

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