Ahem.

  Don't you hate when life gets in the way of doing the stuff you really want to do?

I seem to spend an awful lot of time composing blog posts in my head, while I allow my body to get on with the tedious "must dos" of keeping a busy family on track, well fed, clean and assisting in the financial ebb and flow.  Which is great in a "aren't I a talented, multi-tasking goddess sort of a woman" way and also not great in that they never get to escape the confines of my head.  I compose, I tweak, I thesaursise.  Then when I am finally at liberty to set the words down, I am so exhausted that all I am able to do is to stare vacantly at the television for half an hour, until I stumble up to bed. 

And then the next day, all the lovely words have flown. 

 I'm left with a vague sense of what I wanted to to say, and perhaps one word floating aimlessly, a balloon nudging at the ceiling, not quiet as bright as those that seized the release of dream time, to escape.