A Bum or Two or Three

My SIL measures the size of kitchen in bums.  She has a two-bum kitchen maximum capacity.  My grandma's kitchen was a one-bum kitchen, for sure.  Mine is much larger:  I'd say it's a four-bum kitchen.

But the hallways between our cubicles at work?  One and a half bums.  Two if both people are skinny.

We need a passing lane.

Basically, I'm a Bum

Here's the thing. Every time life has gotten stressful, my writing goes away. Wedding? Funeral? Primary Program? New job? New baby? I have no record of any of these things. My posterity will think my life just sailed along without anything hard because I never write about them till the stress is gone. And once the stress is gone, what's to write? I made it through. Let's not think about it ever again.

Additionally, I haven't gone running in a week and a half. Never mind that the Ragnar is just two months away. It's too cold. I'm too stressed.

Yard work? Forget it.

So really, I'm just a bum. I come home, get into my jammies, and curl up with a book, a movie, The Biggest Loser, or my embroidery. I guess the writing's not the only thing that goes away.

BTW, the fact that I'm writing tonight is a good sign. :)