We’ll call this a warning
The Internet Police showed up at my door this morning and gave me a warning about blog neglect. It’s a serious issue, they cautioned me, and not something they take lightly. I need to get my act together, they said, and start treating my blog with the respect it deserves.
So, here I am.
Look. I apologize. I really do. But the dog ate my IP address.
I have had both a serious case of writer’s block and serious case of no free time since I last posted. It’s a deadly combination, almost as bad as having no fashion sense and a low self esteem. When I think I have a great idea, I don’t have an opportunity to sit down and pound it out. When I have the time to sit down and pound it out–crickets. Annoying ones. Anything I could possibly have to say winds up looking like this:
Loud. Words…sticky. Shiny. Sleeeeeeeeeeeep. Pants. River otter! Soapy, slimy steering wheel. Duvet cover. What? Vodka.
I’m hoping things slow down enough soon so I can actually sit down and nurture my creative process. But I worry if that happens, I’ll stop being able to sleep without Ambien. How do the two relate? They don’t. I just wanted to throw it out there that I can fall asleep at least half the time without the use of pharmaceuticals. IT’S A BIG DEAL, FOLKS.
Yeah, that’s right. I can perform a natural biological function. I AM AMAZING.
To sum it up: I suck. I’m going to try not to suck soon. In the mean time, suck on my suckiness.