(no subject)

It seems I haven't had much to say. Every time I think, "I should write about that", it stops being important about five minutes later. I'm suffering from the same ennui and low-level anxiety that everyone is these days, with a heaping tablespoon of feeling trapped. My apartment is not big and three people live in it. It's a lot.

I spent the past 45 minutes digging in my closet to get at a fabric bin that was buried at the back and on the bottom. I have a mighty need to make more masks (Declan will need more for back-to-school as it is), and feel like I am not accomplishing enough (or anything, regardless of that I do manage to get done in a day), so maybe some batch sewing might help.

I have more fabric, and I bought more online (again with this mighty need) that I still have to wash, dry, and press before I can do anything about it.

Oh, and a couple of days ago, I stubbed my toe, the little one on my right foot. It fucking hurt, yo, and now my toe is a pretty shade of purple. And I shaved my head again. Fuck having hair. It's too much work and I just don't have the bandwidth for much of anything these days.

Now I think I will read another book (I've been doing a lot of that) and try to escape for a bit, if only in my own head.