I feel quite well, quite happy and quite joie-de-vivre-ful.
Life is very good, very busy, very eventful and very stimulating.
But somehow I feel boring.
I have nothing to complain about; counting my blessings I know I'm the luckiest person alive yet when someone asks me what I've been upto, my recounting of what were lovely times spent doing lovely things sounds like a rollcall of day-filling at its most bland.
"Ahhhhh" they say with feigned politeness, heads tipped quizzically. "Ahhhhh, I see" but they don't see, not really.
I don't look boring, well not if you appreciate The Dressing Up Box Meets Refugee Chic mode of dressing, but inside those pink tights and 40s hats there's a coredom of boredom seeping through.
Middle age? Time of year? Lack of dancing on the table (don't think I can even get UP on the table!)
I'm not dissatisfied, I love everything I do and do everything I love, so why do I feel boring?
Operation Dog Snot Removal and Other Thoughts.
12 hours ago