Depression disagrees with me. I mean that literally. It goes something like this:
Me – I’m going to work on my blog.
Depression – No you’re not. You don’t want to.
Me – Well, how about I read a book to post about in my blog?
Depression – Are you not listening to me? You don’t want to.
Me – I don’t?
Depression – No. What you want to do is sit listlessly in bed with the OWN channel on and let your brains trickle out your ears.
Me – Oh. Okay. Sigh.
And so, here I am, watching The Day I Almost Died on the OWN channel. I just finished a mystery book called Compulsion that I could post about. I have plenty of books waiting to be read, but yet I sit here with what I suspect are glazed eyes and possibly a slight trail of drool going down my chin. I’m hoping one of my cats will step on the remote control and save me from the mesmerism of bad TV. Here kitty, kitty, kitty.