I hit a wall at over 26,000 words. I simply can’t conjure up any fresh and captivating twists for my story. I've come to the realization that I'm essentially regurgitating the same tired variations of the same tired themes. My well of imagination seems to have run dry. Ah, the joys of getting older! While we may gain wisdom and maturity (usually), we also seem to lose our visionary spark, our vitality, our metabolic edge, and eventually, our knack for innovation. My creative juices have all but dried up. Nothing feels novel or exhilarating anymore. Take Hawaii, for example. Sure, it's thrilling, but not nearly as exhilarating as it would've been in my early twenties, back when I was living on the East Coast and hadn't ventured beyond visiting my sister in Texas a couple of times. It appears that blogging is the only form of writing that truly resonates with me these days. I relish the opportunity to share life's highs and vent about its lows.

Tomorrow, Tammy undergoes knee surgery, followed by a lengthy journey of physical therapy and recuperation. She requested my prayers, prompting me to muster the courage to confess my agnosticism to her. I couldn't bear to deceive her by pretending to pray when I don't. My belief lies in the notion that events unfold as they are destined to, and if prayer could simply grant our wishes, we'd all lead charmed lives (or, at the very least, be spared from life's hardships). The notion that "God never gives us more than we can handle" rings hollow to me; if that were true, we'd all be immortal. Moreover, any deity capable of allowing such suffering, both for Tammy and for myself, isn't one I feel inclined to trust. For me, prayer feels like talking to a brick wall. Having "a friend in God" is akin to befriending the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, or some other mythical entity. However, this doesn't diminish my respect for others' beliefs. We each harbor our own convictions, and that's perfectly acceptable. As for me, well, perhaps there is something out there, but it's not always as benevolent as we'd like to believe. In other words, whatever force governs our existence seems to harbor a vendetta against some of us. Considering how wretched my life was for so long, I still can't fathom the streak of good fortune I've been riding lately, and I fear it's only a matter of time before the tides turn.

Nevertheless, I'll keep Tammy in my thoughts and hope for the best. I can't begin to imagine enduring such tribulations, and I certainly don't envy her. Not only will she be confined to immobility for a while, but she may also require ventilator assistance post-surgery until she can breathe independently. And, of course, she must pray to whatever higher power she believes in to steer clear of any infections that could further complicate matters.

I was disheartened to learn of Marie's impending move. I'm eagerly awaiting her response. It seems she's parted ways with her wife, a development I feared was on the horizon. She, too, will occupy my thoughts, and I sincerely hope she finds contentment, whatever form it may take. She holds a special place in my heart, and despite the moments of exasperation she's caused me in the past, she deserves happiness.

FedEx was slated to deliver the first of my birthday treats—the tigress and cub figurine, along with Tom's CoQ10 pills—but failed to do so. The tracking status claimed it was out for delivery until 8 PM, but I suspect they're running behind schedule with the holidays looming. Alternatively, perhaps we were relegated to the bottom of their delivery list, and they lacked the access code to enter our gated community once the gates were secured at 7 PM. This marks the first time I've begrudged these gates, though they do serve their purpose of deterring unauthorized vehicular traffic, particularly those with blaring car stereos.

I spent most of the day in slumber, but Tom assured me it was a tranquil day with no sign of children frolicking in the streets. I wonder if the scene would have been different had I been awake. The sight of those girls cycling alongside their grandmother would have hinted at their residency here, so I'm relieved Tom didn't spot them. After all, there's little point in residing in an age-restricted community if children are permitted to take up residence.

We did catch a brief yelp from a dog being walked by as I stirred from my slumber, but barking remains a rarity in our neighborhood. However, just beyond the park, it's an entirely different story, with plenty of boisterous canines making their presence known. I suspect this is why the house across the street fell through and is back on the market. No one wants to settle in a locale inundated with incessant barking. Late at night, if you stand by any window facing westward, you can faintly discern the distant clamor of barking. I shudder to think how cacophonous it must be for the homes lining Oak Lane. There may be other issues plaguing the property as well; I recall spotting an exterminator at the premises recently.

Aside from an open house and a delivery truck making a stop halfway down the block, Tom reported a tranquil Sunday.

Rain is forecasted for Tuesday through Thursday, though one can never be certain. It promises to be a welcome change, though it's unfortunate that I'll be slumbering during daylight hours, unable to savor the tranquility or revel in the knowledge that inclement weather will keep the landscapers at bay. Then again, precipitation in these parts often arrives in the dead of night.

*Glancing at an advertisement* "Christ-centered" yoga? Seriously? My goodness, soon there'll be "Christ-centered" everything. Well, to each their own, I suppose.

I broached the subject of prayer with Tom, and he offered this perspective: "I suppose so, though I believe prayer should be directed towards what you need, not necessarily what you want."