Time

I wish I had more time to read. I started reading Sarah Blake's "Grange House" about a month ago and I'm still not even halfway through it. It's a good story. I like it. I just can't seem to get it read. I used to read constantly, but that was before... in the good old days of being bored absolutely to death. Things are little different now. I'm usually busy doing something else and I can never quite get my brain to focus on a book. It's always moving. I'm always wondering about something. There are over 50 books in my possession that I haven't read yet. It's ridiculous. I'M ridiculous. I'm ashamed of myself. There are so many things I need to get done and so much that I want to do that it's hard to find balance. The last two days have been nice. We both just kind of floated around the house doing our own thing. He watched sports, and I was writing, or watching stuff on Netflix. It's important for couples to break away and have personal time...otherwise you just get sick of each other and nobody wants that.

Tomorrow is Monday. Weekends are so fleeting.

I could use a nap.

Can I just say that I'm really tired of people in my family not appreciating the shit I do for them? I don't think they realize how easy it is for me to cut them out of my life and act like they never existed. I was never that close to anyone on my mother's side, except for my Granny, and she passed away the summer I turned 18. Come to think of it, I'm not really that close to anyone, except for MM and Babe. I've been accused of being cold. To which I say, that's a direct result of people being shitty and I'm fucking tired of it.