Battered. Goats. Bruised. Monkeys.

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Sunday nights. Fun times. Numerous reasons. Need to postpone one thing in particular for as long as I can. Gibber on. Sunday nights. Time to look over the weekly to-do list. Usual. See what I managed to get done. Tick. What I did not do. Tut. Pity. X. Then write in random pointless stuff not on the list. But that I did throughout the week. Even things out. All aboot balance. All aboot fooling. For the past hour I’ve been trying to get one final thing ticked off before I go to sleep. Write an article for an Irish paper. Unfortunately. My brain has been distracted. Highly so. Waiting patiently. Waiting for them to show up. Bringing it¬†with them. Distracting. As is. This imaginary goat. The one I can’t stop thinking about. Continue Reading »