Pestilence in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

I know I haven’t written but in truth, not much has happened.

How often can I write about a cycle that repeats itself? How many times can I say “this is bad” without anything really changing? What would be the point in reading those tired words over and over again?

I’m supposed to be on vacation right now, it was the one thing I was looking forward to. I supposed to be in Los Angeles. I’m not. I’m at home sick.

There is nothing left to do. Nothing left to say. Until something changes.