Outpouring of Gloop

That’s what I feel my writing is like tonight. Thick murky gloop on a page. Does this gloop even care what I have sacrificed tonight for its deliverance? Let's see...

Thanks to this gloop I will:

1. Not have nice hair tomorrow. As I should have washed it, slathered it, patted it, sectioned it, dried it, straightened it, pulled it and shined it. Because I dedicated myself to writing some gloop, none of that has happened. And so tomorrow I will have sleep-flattened slob hair instead.
   
   
2. Not have watched QI on television. I will not have laughed along with Stephen Fry and his guests, or pretended that I got every joke, or guessed every obvious answer. It's a nicer way of spending the evening instead of writing gloop.
   
   
3. Not have read anything. I like reading, I do, and I could have done that tonight and lost myself in someone else's story, rather than in a pile of gloop.
   
   
4. Not have made or eaten pancakes. As I could have done that, gloop, if only I wasn’t so determined to sit here every bleeding night trying to write you. And before you bleat (as that’s what gloops do) about having saved my waist-line I would like to remind you of the empty chocolate wrapper over there by the chapter plan. Yes, you think on about what you are doing to me, gloop.
   
   
5. Not have phoned a friend. Okay, I am Miss ‘Eeek-speak-on-the-phone?’ these days, but I could have phoned someone. I could have texted. I could definitely have emailed people – I owe nice folk emails. And yet instead I write gloop. I sigh at myself.
   
   
6. Have tired eyes tomorrow. I always have tired eyes these days, as I seem to spend my waking life fixed to a monitor. And who decided, gloop, that you would work better when I reduce the Word document page to just 75%, so I see two pages at once instead of one? As my old monitor is way too small already for such fanciness, but still that is the way you like it. I hate you gloop.
   
   
7. Have spent the evening with ginger cat on my lap. This is a nice thing about writing gloop. As ginger cat sets the pace with his purr. It is sufficiently loud enough for me to keep going, and he is sufficiently warm enough for me to stay put. Thanks gloop.
   
   
8. Have thought a bit more about that tricky scene. I still cannot write it, my fingers are thumbs every time I try, but at least I am thinking about it. That’s a good thing, gloop, it really is.
   
   
9. Not be thinking about anything sad. As I so could be thinking about sad things if I didn’t have my gloop. It would be very easy to think of sad things, and wondering why I sit here on my own, and why my phone doesn’t ring, and why I live in the same house I ever did, and why my life hasn’t started and when-oh-when will it start? I could think of all these things and they could overwhelm me but instead I ponder gloop and all those things go away.
   
   
10. Have made another step onwards with my writing. Okay, today might be gloop, but tomorrow might be good. At least I have words to play with, and not a blank page. So for today I will embrace the gloop, as when all is said and done I am a big fan of tomorrow.