There’s this thing in writing where you just make yourself write non-stop for a certain amount of time without the pressure of a desired outcome of the expectation of making any sense.  I call it blogging. 😉

So I’m going to be on the radio tomorrow. You can listen here at 10am GMT + 4. It’s not my first radio interview, but it is my first time being in a recording studio with fancy button and knobs and levers.  There’s a lot of exciting stuff happening at work – in parallel to the not so exciting stuff – and some of it involves paperwork and stamping stuff but other bits are exciting and may involve golf and me being at a charity tournament.

Hmm.

I don’t know if I’d call this writing.  It’s more like failing to write. But I’m going to make myself do it because the only way to strengthen a weak, underused muscle is to gentle torture it back into use again.

(You see? This is why I’m not a physiotherapist)

I got a retainer because my teeth were migrating south for the winter.  Well, east actually.  To the left. That could be east or west depending on which way I’m facing.  I wear it at night and HF calls me Darla.  I call him a slurpy, wet word that is produced as a combination of wires, plastic, and sloppy sibilant consonants. I have yet to translate it.  Neither has he.

I have arthritis, so my everything hurts.  My feet, my knees, my fingers – and Oh Em Gee bang bang my fingers hurt. Typing is a huge challenge and I have started using a dictation software for work emails more often than not.  I thought that was going reasonably well until I composed and emailed a proposal for therapy that involved a four letter word that sounded like fork but wasn’t fork.  I would have died from embarrassment except the parents have yet to follow through on meeting up. I wonder why.

So this is my free-blogging update.  I want to do more of this writing thing and less of this guilting thing, because my blog has been alive for over ten years now and this is the longest any of my pets have ever lived so I’ll try not to let it die of neglect, InshaAllah.

By Abez, The End.

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My brain is out of shape. Thanks Miffy. Blogging in the dark I Choose YOU Pikachu!