Today I accomplished next to nothing. I had no ambition, drive, passion, desire, or ability to be motivated. (Ability? Absorptionability? Not sure.) It was all ding-dong, no one home.
I tried to write. It was a short story based on a dream (that was possibly inspired by watching the movie Sisters). Tina and Amy check into a five star hotel. The staff keeps stealing hotel stuff from their room because they figure celebrities will pay without checking the bill. Tina calls for towels, the bell hop steals the pillowcase. She calls about that, two employees steal the nightstand. It was hilarious in the dream. It was dull as a story.
I did two loads of dishes. (One normal dirty dishes, the other washing stuff like the metal stove bowls and the microwave plate. Odds and ends.) I questioned how there were dishes to do when we were barely home all weekend, and mostly ate out. But whatever.
I read one more chapter in my book. Charged my phone. Walked away from it while it charged, ended up missing a call from my best friend. Sigh. :/
It's going to be a long week.
How about you? Ever have an empty blah kind of day?