I told myself I would get back in to blogging. As fun as facebook is, it steals ideas and time. I’ve never looked back through my journals like I’ve looked through my blog. My writing is neat, but hard to read and my journal voice has never quite lost its wounded tone and its overwrought angst. Without a blog, my mind is overflowing with ideas and no net to catch them. I love my blogging friends, and…I just like to blog.

In June, I told myself, I will start to blog again. With regularity. I circled it in my diary. But June? June is the month before the summer break and it’s end-of-school which means my young lads have exams and we need thank you gifts for teachers. I am back at Arabic lessons, I have one huge work deadline and another, I am on a strict novel diet of 1,000 words per day to get me up to 70,000 words before we hit July. I still have assignments that need to be done before I am assessed as Competent for Certificate III in Fitness. The mister made the smoothies with honey yoghurt instead of vanilla and the lads said, ‘You should have asked Mum’ and I said, ‘Just drink it, you have to drink it,’ which is something I don’t normally say and now I’m almost certain youngest tipped his down the bathroom sink. The cockroaches come back in June, the dog has a guts ache, the floor has a carpet of dust. At night I don’t know whether I am supposed to choose the age-defying or the restorative eye cream.

So here I am with ten minutes (okay, seven) where I planned to have an hour. And there is not an idea to be found.