the writer in her garrett

i have only one pair of old clogs in which a toe has worn through, and it's not mid-winter in a drafty, bone-chilling attic in london, and no one is forcing me to live on watery gruel, and i am not dying of consumption, but feel sorry for me anyway! here i am working in my loft, surrounded by piles of scraps of paper on a beautiful, sunny sunday when people are supposed to be out hiking and having brunch and lying in the sun. also, i have a sty and am holding a soggy teabag to my eye because the internet has told me this is a good irish home remedy. see how caffeine fixes everything?