Me and my brain have an intense love/hate relationship. As some of you might remember, there even came a time when I wanted to divorce it. Back then, the problem was the insane amount of different stories partying between my ears. After I almost left with half the furniture, my brain finally agreed to work with me.
For a time, everything was peachy. We found our common ground and fell into a comfortable cruising speed of task completion. Life was good.
And then troubles reared their ugly regrowing Hydra-type heads.
Now, all my brain wants to do is procrastinate. It would rather play solitaire than focus on my stories. What’s up with that? As if I haven’t treated it right!
I have a delicious cup of pumpkin-flavored chai tea. Instrumental music is playing. My cat/writing buddy is purring on my lap. What more should I do? Go to counselling?
I think I’ll opt for brainless tasks; a round of mending and ironing out to snap some senses into my brain.