It’s raining again and my clothes don’t want to dry. I have a head full of ideas and endless amounts of time. In the background the dream lingers; electric and untouchable through typing fingers. Next to me sits a restless dog, his head on my lap as he chews through some hide. When he looks me in the eye he gives me peace of mind, a string that connects me to the world outside, a hairy little man that never wants to leave my side. The heater radiates its tinny beat, gasping for air as it spits out some heat. It clicks itself off when it thinks it’s heating up, far from cold but still not enough. I switch it back on and tidy the room, the morning has now turned into afternoon. My mind wanders off interstate, thinking about family of late. Not even sure if I miss that place. Twenty-five months and it feels like home. Twenty-five years and I’ve ticked some boxes; I’ve seen more wins than losses. All this time there’s this little thing inside, an idea wanting to be realised. Still think about it late at night. Losing sleep but not the fight.