Hi, there, Dear Reader.
Today I was going to write another post about Crusade in Europe, one of my favorite games from when I owned my first home computer, an Apple IIe with a color monitor and an Imagewriter dot-matrix printer. That was a gift I received from my Uncle Sixto Diaz-Granados 35 years ago this month, and it was the machine on which I became a gamer in my mid-twenties. (It was also the catalyst for the slow-motion estrangement between my older half-sister and me, but I am not going to get into that now.)
Anyway, yes. I planned to write a dissertation (of sorts) that focused on specific aspects of Crusade in Europe. I even started writing it with a modicum of enthusiasm and a vague idea of what I wanted to say.
Alas, several paragraphs into the post, I realized that I truly had no idea where I was going with my line of thought. I typed, and typed, and typed, but even though I wrote 327 words in eight short paragraphs, it seemed – to me, at least – that I was taking far too long to get to the point. Indeed, it seemed like I had no point to make.
That was exasperating, so I decided to close that document file without deleting the stuff I’d written and decided to…um…write this instead.
Even though I had a good breakfast this morning – close to midday, but still – and slept relatively well, I am tired. Physically, mentally, and, dare I say, emotionally.
When I was writing the post I had told myself I’d write today, I started out with both enthusiasm and the intention to finish and publish it. I really did. I wasn’t hungry, and I drank three cups of coffee that the Caregiver took the time to brew for me.
It is vexing – to say the least – when I wake up with an action plan in my head, sit at my desk and start to write, and then end up feeling like a driver who takes a wrong turn and drives the car off the road and into a field of thick, sticky mud.
Ugh. I hate that. And unfortunately, it happens more frequently than I care to admit.
I suppose that I could – should – take the rest of this lovely Sunday afternoon and relax. Preferably in another room of the house and away from my desk. I should go out for a walk and get some exercise. Or, if I don’t want to take a shower and change into “street clothes,” at least grab a book and read it out in the living room. It’s not like I am confined to quarters.
Still, I am irked about that post that I wanted to write before I tucked it away for another day.
I hate it when a plan doesn’t come together, you know?
A Certain Point of View, Too 
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