The Trouble with 2020

I wish I had cancelled some things to make more time to write, as I suggested at the end of my last post... OVER A MONTH AGO.

It's August, and no, I didn't finish it. Life intervened.
There were some chaotic things happening in my neighborhood, plus a bout of depression, plus a few "official" issues to resolve. And now we are in a second actual lockdown.

You'd think a lockdown would make it easier to find time to write, but I'm lost in that space called "lack of motivation". I've been there often enough in the past few months that it needs a better name. It's basically my second home. A place shouldn't be a "lack of," but what is the presence?

Can I call it the Space of Ennui? The Headspace of Ennui?
Or am I simply possessed and controlled by ennui?

I think it's more complicated than that, but it doesn't matter. The fact is, progress is slow. Oh, so slow. Getting out of bed these days is an act of will power.

In short, I'm doing what I can with who I am at the moment.
Stay safe, people. Covid-19 is real.

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