I had this horribly optimistic idea that I would post every day, even if they were little ones. I would become this insanely productive writer, with a plethora of posts under my belt. I should know myself better than this by now, but I am cursed with an ever-hopeful mind. I like to think that no matter how many times a cabbie cuts me off, maybe today this cabbie won't. And yet they always do.
So Christmas is around the corner, and I have no Oomph. No Oomph to go shopping, no Oomph to decorate, no Oomph to wax pathetic on whatever issue happens to be on my mind (currently I'm passively contemplating Wikileaks, in case you're interested).
Partly I blame the tenacious bastard of a cold that will not leave me alone, sapping all my energy and klenex like a giant snotty plecostomus. I fill my time with knitting, make work projects at work (you should see the colour coordinated schedules I make), and my new-found love of Netflix. I possess an inhuman ability to absorb television. I will happily sit and watch entire seasons of various tv shows. They don't even have to be particularly good. They just have to be there.
In order to break this unhealthy cycle of knitting and tv, we're cancelling our cable. Hopefully the paranoia of breaking the cap on our internet will prevent me from consuming too much Netflix, but it's a vain hope. Since I pay for the internet and any subsequent fees incurred by consuming too much of it, any deterrent is passive in nature and easily overcome by a new knitting pattern and a bowl full of popcorn.
This is going to be a very lazy Christmas.
