Most boring title ever

At this point, the blog is a journal. I haven't journaled for years. Feels kinda good. When I was a kid, I would buy a diary every year, or get gifted one at Xmas, and I would commit to writing a little every day. I found some of those old diaries once, and noticed only a few days of writing in each. Plans, plans, so many plans. I prefer using Blogger. It waits for me patiently, doesn't take up space, I always know where it is, and doesn't kill any trees for paper.
Most adverbs are garbage.
Language notes: I corrected my own conversational speech yesterday morning, editing an adverb. That self-editing action got a giggle from my fellow chatter. Is there a label for the two parties involved in a conversation? English is limited in many ways. How can that be, with one million words and counting?
And it wouldn't be a blog post without a scribbled line or two of poetry ...
Too many feels
A poem
I feel sad for you
All the time
Do you want me to?
Later, I scrub the guilt off,
Like washing crusty dishes
left by lazy roommates.
One atom of shame remains;
my expectations feed the disgrace fungus, and it multiplies, until it's ripe and spores of more guilt fly.
The end.
Phew, that was a weird one.
P.S. Today is the one-year anniversary of my father's passing. Heavy heart.