More paralysis

It’s Monday morning, the first of November. I’ve been awake for several hours now. I’ve managed to have some food, kill some time, and clean some dishes. The sink had been a bit overwhelming, now it’s just slightly obnoxious. My attempt at Nanowrimo seems ill advised. I don’t have a story that I feel like writing. I have bits and pieces, several from years ago, but nothing with a narrative behind it, nothing with a substantial flow. Just bits and pieces, nothing that I feel I could spin into something coherent.

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