Do you ever walk into the room where your desk/dresser/kitchen table/project bin sits, full to overflowing with stuff you haven't done but still mean to do, hang your head, and just walk out again?
All the time.
In fact, I have a desk, a project bin, a hallway floor, and now even my blog is like that. I just look at them, hang my head, and shuffle away again. What on earth was I doing on that project? Oh man, I can't even file that; I don't have a folder for it. There's no catching up now; I'm too far behind. Forget it, let's just take it all to the dump.
But even if I could "just toss it" with everything on my desk/project bin/hallway floor, I can't just dump all the photos and post ideas floating around in my head and hard drive. Most of the posts I've been meaning to write, I more-than-half-believe I've already written. So then I'm surprised when people I talk to don't know what I'm talking about when I refer back to non-existent posts. I'm deciding I have to just write them. Even if they're months and months old.
Let's start this last June, ok?
Dave turned 34 in June. I took him to a vacation town near the shores of Lake Erie called Milan.
This was our BnB:
Happy (late) birthday, my sweetheart!