Surfing The Funk and having a Whinge

You might remember I told you all about my Plan? Get 85,000 words written by the end of June? Yeah. The first week went really well, with the tally running at 12,000 or so words (some of those needing serious deleting) and then everything ground to a halt. As in complete stop. Not so much writer's block as writer's fortress wall. 

I couldn't even open the word document where my words lay in wait. I couldn't even blog. 

If I say the last couple of weeks have been trying, this is an understatement. 

Yes, I could have done things: writing exercises, physically exercised more, done art, done some poetry. Instead, I just had a bit of a funk. It's not like I've been depressed or unhappy. I just couldn't be creative. 

The last couple of days haven't been a barrel of laughs. Not especially helped by Rummy being a bit of an asshole during the night, leading to me not getting much sleep and being very shouty and sweary with him. 

It's partly not his fault. Since his last few encounters with the bastard lynx (may the fleas of a thousand camels infest him and give him heart worm), his confidence has been severely knocked to the point where he hasn't wanted to go outside, not even for a comfort break. Not helped that the bastard Lynx (may he ever get hangnails and meet hungry foxes at night) has been spraying our front door, making clear that our territory is his. I swear if I get my mitts on that bastard cat I will rub his ass down with chilli oil or worse. Given that he high-tails it every time he sees me, my chances are slim at best. More's the pity.

At 3 am, the hint of dawn in the air, Rummy decides that it's time to get up, make lots of noise and play. I eventually resolved the situation by hunting him down, catching him and tossing him into the morning. By then I was so wound up, sleep eluded me for hours after. 

Last night, he decided he'd behave, but that didn't stop me waking up for a couple of hours in expectation of him being a dick. 

Today, I've crawled out of my Pit of Doom to potter around the house. I've also had a bit of a chemistry experiment. Now I'm no longer required to appear normal, I thought I'd have a bit of an experiment with my hair colour. Last time, I went to my hair dresser and asked for a bright red. It was not a success. Given my hair is so incredibly dark and she decided to err on the side of caution, it came out more mahogany than red. This time, I figured I'd give it a shot myself. It's brighter than the professional job and way cheaper, but still highly unsatisfactory. It was a lot of effort and mess - the bathroom looked like I'd murdered a clown - and it's come out more like Bad Tranny Red, than bright red.

*phuh*

I'm now wondering whether I should abandon reds completely and explore other, wilder colours. Perhaps bright blue? 

On a happier note, Boy finishes his second year today after his last exam and will be home tomorrow until September and the start of his final year.

I've missed his awesome self.