Dirty Dishes

I seem to have lost track of my life. Not sure where it went. Perhaps into the void of unplanned days. School is officially out for the summer and I seem to have lost all motivation to be, well, motivated.

It's hot and humid and I choose not to exercise in hot and humid. The good news is that we are heading to Maine in a few days. It's generally cooler there and the prospect of exercising with an ocean view is too good to pass up.

Until then, though, I'm a hot, hungry mess.

I haven't started a single packing list yet. As queen of the listmakers, this is an unusual confession. Maybe if I do the dishes, I'll manage to accomplish something.

It doesn't matter that the dishes are two rooms away. The fact that they are there, piled up and dirty, taunting me with outrageous French accents is enough to cause me to run away.

The only hope for me is psychotropic medication.

If only.

I can't finish this thought. I need to wash the dishes.