Netflix went rogue and re-downloaded all of our watched movies that I hadn’t deleted and as a result I have run out of my way-overpriced satellite internet data for the rest of the month. I am typing this on my phone from a precarious position by the lounge room window where I get an occasional bar of service hoping that it holds long enough to hit the “publish” button.
I love living out in the middle of nowhere but the lack of services can be supremely frustrating. So apologies if you don’t hear from me for a while, I will try to catch up on everyones posts at the end of the data drought.
Love to all of you!
The titillations, tribulations, vicissitudes, and oxymoronic cogitations of a very lucky and unfortunate Neuroscientist with Bipolar Disorder
It was almost funny.
Torn. Broken. Writer. “For me, writing is an art of converting feelings to words.”
Read between the lines
The ups and downs of my recovery
On Being Creative, A Mother & Bipolar
Stationery Enthusiast & Mental Wellness Advocate
Speaking Out on the Unspeakable
Creative Writing. Book Reviews. Adult Humour.
NOT ALL WHO SUFFER ARE STRONG
Shattering the Magic Mirror