I am suffering from "Every Day The Same." It is a lot like being "fine."

The weather is finally getting cooler. 

I have a full schedule - sometimes too full. 

I watched the Martin Scorsese documentary about George Harrison and cried. But totally worth the watch. 

I watched The Time Traveler's Wife and cried. Not totally worth the watch. Well maybe. 

I have not read a book since Labor Day weekend, but for the record "Attachments" by Rainbow Rowell and "The Weird Sisters" by Eleanor Brown were really good. 

I moved. Everything. Finally. But the decorating(even on the cheap)is currently too expensive. And now I almost do not even see the hideous color scheme. Or the excessive amount of sunshine in the mornings. 

Insomnia is, as always, whooping my behind. But the stomach problems, sinus problems, panic attacks, and whatever else are better. 

I rarely cook anymore. 

I can not remember the last time I heard new music that lit a fire inside of me. 

And so. 

And so, there are pictures of my patio. And my nephew. 

Every Day The Same.