The other thing that happens in winter is that I get antsy. Tired of my routine. In the summer the routine is broken up by outdoor weekend activities and long days. In the winter, it's dark, a lot. And the routine of work and home and bed gets really old, really quick.
Anyway, the point is, due to the fact that it's going to be dark at 4:00 tonight because we set the clocks back, and that I'm spending more and more time watching TV on the sofa, I'm writing a blog. It's being encouraged by my constant writing friend that I join her blog challenge this month. She hasn't been nearly as bad as me at keeping up with the writing, but close.
But I always wonder what I should write about. Why would people want to read about my boring, sit on the couch life. I don't have a whole lot else to write about.
My property management career? Which takes up most of my time and energy.
My relationship? That seems like a bad idea just in general. My relationship itself is awesome.
I don't have a theme. Not fashion or beauty or dogs or advice.
I wish that I could write fiction. I've always wanted to write a book. An amazing, wonderful, inspiring book. The type of book that people are sad to put down. The type of book that people don't want to end. The type of book that people think about when they think of an amazing book. The book that always get recommended when they have a friend looking for something to read. I just don't have that skill. And as a reader I'm okay with it. There's nothing worse than trying to suffer through an uninspired book.