But this was brought on by stupid writer's block, which extrapolated to not just sucking at creating, but sucking at everything, knowing that this is irrational, and totally firstworldproblem and I tell him that I feel even worse for feeling this way because my life's been way easier than his and I'm sitting on a back porch with a mug of tea while he's stuck in Erie. But we make each other laugh, so everything is fine. And now my laptop's dead for the time being at least so I have even more excuses.
And of course the clouds pass, and the laughter returns. I'm still tired from staying up too late and rocking out too much. I spent last night drinking tea with someone I rarely get to see, the morning with the ladies of the family and the absurdly cute nephe, the afternoon darkthroning with a friend's dog along rivers through the woods and wetlands. The sky was so perfectly azure and the leaves were green and golden. I finally feel like my soul's back to normal.