The Post That I Should Not Have Written

Procrastinating Donkey has been doing some pretty good procrastinating lately. Especially when it comes to writing blog posts.

And once it gets within three hours of my regular posting time, any tiny seedlings of ideas that I might have had earlier in the day or week suddenly wither and die from being looked at with a panicky critical eye, or else they shuffle with surprising haste out the doorway of my brain, waving their tiny undeveloped leaves in farewell.

I actually started a post that might turn into something good but I had to reacquaint myself with the facts so that it would be a post I could be happy with, but the facts involved watching two 90-minute videos and reading a huge Wikipedia entry so I ran out of time to finish. 

So then I was going to write about how I'm still not back to walking, because just as my hip and back issues were getting worked out, I started having trouble with one of my feet, and I need to be stingy with how much I use my feet so that I can get through my normal day without disabling pain in that one underperforming, structurally unsound foot, and that leaves no room for walking for either exercise or pleasure. And also I'm re-gaining the weight that I lost last spring. But I don't feel like talking about it, because someone is sure to suggest swimming as an alternative form of exercise, and if there's something I would less rather do to burn calories and get fit I have no idea what it would be.

Then I was going to write about how I'm noticing a drop in my mood, which is very unusual for me, and how I'm vigilant about mood because there's a good bit of depression in my family, although I've escaped it so far, luckily, and so I make sure to try to figure things out, and that the only reason for it that I can come up with is the dreary, gray-brown landscape of early winter, and that I'm also thinking that my reaction to that colourlessness is somehow springing from the same awareness that made me see beauty in the other seasons, caused by taking photos when I started blogging. Which is really unfortunate, and I'm not sure the awareness of beauty can offset the blah feelings caused by awareness of the current drabness. I suppose it will depend on how long and how deep this mood dip turns out to be. But I don't feel like talking about that, either, because it's kind of boring for other people and kind of scary for me.

And then I was going to write about how I feel like I don't have any energy and I'm always rushing but getting further behind and how my videos, which are fine when I view them on the computer, somehow turn puny and grainy when I use them in a post, rendering useless a number of posts that I had planned, and I can't get out to walk to take any more photos  - but those things are also complainy, and, worse than that, they are first world problems, and that makes the complainy-ness even more self-indulgent.

And to be even more self-indulgent, like there's some kind of prize or something for being petty, I was going to write about how my haircut person for the past year has been, shall we say, unacceptably inflexible in her cutting methods and not particularly open to suggestion and on top of that lacking in customer service, so I decided not to return because I was dropping quite a bit of money on those appointments with poor results, and then I had to find a new hairstylist and that process strikes terror into my heart, because of my hair type and my pickiness and the fact that my hair is one of the few features I think works in my favour, appearance-wise, but then I asked a co-worker for a recommendation, so, at least for the moment, that problem is taken care of ... but watch this space for possible meltdowns after my appointment because, yes, I am that dependent on good hair days, and that admission does not make me happy, but I can't seem to be happy with bad hair either.


So I'm just going to stick a picture in here and call it a day, and wish you all a merry weekend, with hopefully some love and some good food and some endorphin-producing exercise (or chocolate, or wine) to go with.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading. You've done your good deed for the day, or indeed perhaps for the year. If I was Santa, you would definitely be on my "nice" list. Heck, you're on my "nice" list even though I'm just a donkey.

Three guesses which peg person I do NOT feel like this week - and the first two guesses don't count. Photo by Pixabay, a reliable source of Donkey photos and apparently just about any other photos, too. These peg people, or whatever they are called, are so darn cute I'm trying to figure out if I have the artistic skills to reproduce them for next year's craft sale. I have a hard time drawing faces, a fact I know absolutely but have not yet fully accepted when it comes to crafting. What a ridiculously silly thing to be persistently optimistic about, when there are so many other things I could use that optimism for.