Literally versus metaphorically.

It’s wet outside. Cold and grey, the kind of weather that leaves you chilled to the bone, wishing for a warm patch of sunlight, or to be a cat, curled up under the covers of the bed.

+++

Writing every day is hard. This is probably why I ought to keep doing it.

:The hard things are always worth it, in the end:

– which sounds like the punchline to a dirty joke, but is decidedly not a euphamism.

Unless it’s a euphamism for life, in which case, carry on.

+++

Every time I stand up, someone steals my chair.

Everytime I sit down, I’m suddenly needed elsewhere.

I’m starting to suspect that this is the euphamism for life. Bugger trying to be happy in this moment, or taking a second to reflect.

No, you’ve got to aim for overall happiness, so that you can survive the shouting and the stolen chairs and the moments filled with annoyance.

+++

Or maybe I’m wrong and this is just so hard because my hands are cold and somehow, I’ve managed to gouge a hole in my hand and I’m bleeding all over the keyboard.

Literally.

Not metaphorically.

I am literally, bleeding all over the keyboard. The space bar and lower keys at least.

Maybe that should be the euphamism.