Chipping away at the despised potato? Wondering why the chips fall the wrong way? Perhaps you’re just a chip off the old iceberg?

I was loud for a while on the blogosphere. For around 4 days I waved my cocktail flag about as if it could claim some ground. Since, then, who knows why, but the flag has flailed. Had its breeze lost puff, or had it’s own stuff fallen flat?

This is me periodically. Feeling flat, having nothing to say, striving to know what’s good about myself. Onomatopoeia created the term: ‘meh’.

I cooked dinner for darling daughter, who had her first big exam today. She too was quite maudlin, yet again took to study. So I sat in the fading-light-yard and breathed in the freshly mown and humid air. I sipped another glass of wine and thought about nothing useful. I pondered thinking about nothing useful. I thought about not wanting to do anything more useful for the day, or for that matter anything that was a florid waste of time. I didn’t want to hear music. More deeply I dug at myself for not wanting to create.

Cranky at myself, tired from work, and knowing I was in the mood that wouldn’t let me sleep tonight, I took myself for a neighbourhood walk. A limping-ish one, thanks to my sandal breaking.  To add salt and insult to my efforts to outsmart anxiety, and doubt to my desire for community connection, I noticed that people around here are more often putting their chins at right-angles to the passers-by-ers, casting their vision aside in preference to a view of nothing.  Shucked off, my nod and smile falls into the newly made curb and guttering.

I’m sure this is just me in a low mood. If you’ve read this tiny thing, I hope you and I sleep well. Nigh night.