Cliches and bad metaphors.

There is that old saying that if you haven't anything good to say, then don't say anything... and it seems all well and fine, I suppose, though it has never really stopped me. Sometimes freedom of speech means you are not polite.

I don't know where that came from, really, but twice in the last week I've heard people tell me, or reference that saying when what I've said wasn't nice. Newsflash--I'm not a nice person all the time. I don't know anyone who is when it comes right down to it.

So anyway, I don't have much to say generally today. It is a rainy, cold, dreary day in September. I'm low on sleep and lacking any enthusiasm for much as a result. I feel trapped in the haze of moving where everything that can possibly be done up until this point, has, in fact, been done. There will be more to do suddenly and then in a rush and flurry of cardboard and packing tape, it will happen.

I can say with sertainty, that a much as I cherish my time now, October is looking like a shiny rescue boat... in the meantime, I'm bailing water waiting for the shore.