*Peers through the gloom*

*Brushes dust from the table*

*Everything is still blurry*

*Takes glasses off face*

*Huff and wipe*

*Oh sweet baby bunny overlords is that some actual sun?*

It feels like it’s been a long time coming but spring is here, and I am so goddamn made up to see some vitamin D falling from the sky. Admittedly, as I type this, it appears that some snow is now occurring, but yesterday I sat in the sun for hours and it was entirely glorious. It has felt like a long winter.

And it’s been quiet, quieter than intended here at the Dust Lounge, which was an inadvertent result of a lot going on with the day job, plus a major case of procrastination laced with an unhealthy dose of ennui, funk (the bad, non-musical variety) and imposter syndrome. A heady mix, I’m sure you’ll agree.

But, as the sun trickles it’s way further into the world, I’m here and goddamn ready to hammer out some words and catch up on the various things that I’ve let slip and slide the last few months.

Because tinkering with words makes me feel better.

And I also can’t bear the look my word count spreadsheet is giving me. If Excel could talk, well, I’d be read to seven hells and dripping with shame.

So, holding myself accountable here, I need to put some serious time in with my current WIP, and I need to catch up on my reviews (so many good books have been filtering through my brain world). These things I shall do, forthwith and with great gusto. Or something like that.

But in all fairness, I haven’t done nothing. Well, not exactly nothing.

I’ve been cosifying. Nesting, I guess. Spring cleaning and adding a touch of comfort. The eagle-eyed amongst you might even notice the website has had a bit of a spruce up—an unplanned revamp due to a sadly retired theme.

Ripley the cat refusing to stand on a new rug laid down in the lounge
Ripley, entirely suspicious of the new cosy floor covering

And I’ve discovered the joys of plants.

Plants!

Oh goddamn plants, bringing the outside in, a small haven of greenery to soothe the mood and cleanse the air.

And yes, I’m concerned that my newfound joy of plants may be short lived—potentially as short lived as the plants themselves. But for while I can keep them alive, I love them. There’s something fresh, something warm, about having them in the house.

And this is where I need some help. How do you green-fingered fiends keep your plants alive? What plants are nigh on impossible for me to kill? And, most importantly, what plants are going to refrain from killing the dust lounge cats?

In the meantime, I shall worry away the days wondering if the soil is too wet or the leaves are too droopy or the tone of voice I used when I was chatting to them was too brusque (“grow you goddamn m*****ers grow, please, just goddamn grow, grooooowwoowowow *sob*”).

And between whittling about plants, I shall write.

Happy Springtime y’all.

Plants on the mantelpiece
Plants on the mantelpiece, not dead (yet)

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