Guess what?

I failed in less than a week.

Less than a week.

It's hard to find yourself inspired enough to make the stories & characters in your head come to life with words when you have more real-life stress than you should.  When you have one person who refuses to take on their share of household stress and another who lives to generate a surplus, it's gotta go somewhere, and that's usually me.  Also, it's a little hard when the person in the next room keeps insisting that you hunt down random objects for them or give your opinion on whatever manufactured outrage the harpies on The View are shouting over each other about or watch some inane reality show "highlight".  I've put my adult life on hold for you indefinitely - can't you give me one month where I can do one thing I want to do and be left to my own devices for a refreshing change?

So long as I live the life I have to live keep things running smoothly, I will never be able to write.  It'll be a Shining-esque stream of "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP" for pages and pages.  So yet again, we get to have another fruitless November to be capped off by an equally miserable holiday season. Whee.

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