Home.

"What do you do in your time that you're not working? Why haven't you done this, and this, and this?"

I look up lazily. I had been working on this and this and this, as well as working on that and that and that. I'm sorry our priorities are different. No amount of yelling and telling me "Your bedroom looks like shit," is going to motivate me. I'm sorry I'm forced to share my extremely diminutive living space with my sister who is in and out all the time, with whose lifestyle I have to cater my schedule and sleeping arrangements and everything else to. "Oh, Andrea Stringer is coming to spend the night. I hope you don't mind." Not at all. Just let me go out and spend yet another night on the piss-stenched couch that is too small for my elongated body. It's just as much her mess as it is mine, if not more.

I know I haven't been very motivated to do anything lately. I figured it was the downpour of rainy weather and lack of solar rays that caused me to be so lethargic and soporific. However, today is a perfect, gorgeous autumn day, with wisps of white feathers in the robin-egg skies, blends of greens and reds and yellows and oranges in the ever-changing trees. A slight chill is in the breeze. Beautiful. All I want to do is get out and take a drive, to have some time alone to myself and my thoughts. Perhaps it's not the weather that causes my lack of motivation. Maybe it's living here at home.