writing

last night adam reminded me how much i used to write. at one point i was writing two, three times a day. we're not talking hemingway here: just writing. over the past year i've really fallen out of that habit. which has turned out to be a bad move. blogs have the tendency to be a bunch of self-indulgent twaddle. but there's something to be said about putting down your thoughts and inviting others to read. it's a small sort of risk, but a risk still. and risk is what i'm craving right now. it's been a rough couple of months. so much so my body has completely rejected me this week. i'm drained. my kitten olive goes in to be spayed tomorrow. she is lying on my chest right now pawing at my face. totally unaware. i am overcome with guilt. like i'm about to turn her over to the mob. i can't look her in the eye. if she comes home tomorrow with one of those cones on her head, my heart might just fall out of my chest. it is a good thing i don't have children at this point, because they would all be wearing lojacks.