As regards plots I find real life no help at all. Real life seems to have no plots.
There isn't much to say. I haven't been at all deedy.
My youth is escaping without giving me anything it owes me.
Well, of course, people are only human... But it really does not seem much for them to be.
Pushing forty? She's hanging on for dear life.
I wonder the human race has been so fond of migrations, when the young take so hardly to traveling.