Inexplicably and inextricably stuck in a task you’ve done a thousand times.
Well, that would be me.
Face smushed in the suddenly too tight neck of a sweater. Air cut off, fury building, I feel a foul-mouthed tantrum building.
The sweater of my ill-content? Decorating for Christmas.
The strangling neck? The gaping absence of my muse to help.
Yep, turtlenecked and about to tantrum.