I have been doing laundry for hours. Literally. Hours and hours of laundry going from the washing machine to the dryer to being folded. Hundreds of towels and washclothes and sheets and pillowcases.

I am drowning under all of this laundry.

I'd be on Tumblr, believe you me, but the computer blocks sites like that. Facebook and Twitter too.

What I'd really like is to go home because I am bored out of my mind. All there is to do is laundry and I am sick of laundry. There are thees huge blue bins full of laundry and I'm not even close to done with them. I have laundry in the washer and dryer, another load to go in, and two loads left to fold and it never ever ends. I've probably done 8 loads of laundry today. Hotel work means laundry, I guess.

We're dead though. We have a few people in house and one more arrival, but aside from there there's no one here. The few guests we do have are either out and about or holed up in their rooms. I'm all alone I guess.

Not working with anyone is hard. There's no one to talk to or be with, you're just all alone. It gets boring.

I've been reading Bird by Bird, and it's a book about being a writer.
It says to have short assignements and to write shitty first drafts and that being a writer is really hard and while honest, it is still uplifting and motivating.

I wonder if I could ever be a writer. I'm sure I could, it'd just be hard. Forcing myself to sit down day after day creating works of cition and having to work on the same project for months on end. It's hard and I have the most respect for writer because if you're good, than you must have worked really really hard.