It’s been a month already. Not much has gotten done, a fact that I would like to blame on the move, but in the end it still comes down to me, doesn’t it?

Although watching this very large cockroach race across my living room wall is very distracting. This place is bug-ridden, the only thing I hadn’t planned for. I’ve always hated  bugs, but after a few weeks here I’ve seen so many it’s starting to dull my hate.

I’m still gritting my teeth as I write this.

Anyway, I got distracted — side-tracked, and started another story. A short story. One that I don’t know how exactly it ends, just how it begins. One that should have been done by now (10-15 pages?), but I feel as if I’ve barely gotten started after a week. It was meant as a small diversion to get my blood flowing, but I’mm treating it the same as the rest of the things I write — get started, never finish. I don’t know what it is I lost that let me write so elegantly.

There’s a cockroach on my wall, and I’m getting real pissed off now. I’m not sure, because maybe all bugs look the same to me, but I think this is the third cockroach I’ve seen in the last 10 minutes. Or maybe it’s just one and it moves REALLY fast.

I looked away, and by the time i looked back it was gone. Just, disappeared.

Might have to talk to the resident manager about this. They sprayed pesticides two days ago. Or maybe I need to lay down more boric acid.

I hadn’t planned on this post turning out this way, but that’s how it went down. I’m going to try and finish this short story within the week, and what I will do with it is anyone’s guess.

In my head, I keep telling myself, I have to have something published by August. Available. Out there. Somewhere. I don’t even know if I’ll make it anymore. I think I can, if I can write. So I will.

I’ll write right now!