First I’ll tell you a story.
Monday I was wearing socks in my house, which I guess I shouldn’t do, because I have wood stairs and I slipped and fell down.
It was a catastrophic fall.
I just slipped down two stairs, but somehow at the end of it, I’d snapped a railing spindle, hit my back and arm hard, and clonked my head on two different stairs as I went down. I do feel a little bit like I’ve been beaten on with a baseball bat, but don’t worry too much about my back and arm because my skull took the brunt of it.
Also, I was holding a glass bowl of water when I fell because of course I was.
I pretty much still have a headache, but I seem to be mostly okay. In fact, I don’t even have a single visible bruise, which is a bit of a bummer because I can’t get adequate sympathy.
But enough about me being clumsy. Let’s talk about me being lazy.
Lately, instead of being a fully functioning member of Writersville, I sit on my couch and watch TV every night like the loafer I am. I would really like to write more often. I contemplated forcing myself to write every day for a month to get me back in the habit, but that seemed like setting myself up for failure and setting you up for any number of hideously boring posts about what I am watching on TV right now.
Instead I’ve decided to try to write at least a couple of times a week, focusing even on things that happened a while ago as long as I want to remember them in this digital scrapbook of mine. Either that or I will entirely give up on writing altogether. It’s really like a 50-50 shot.
I have a whole list of topics that I plan to work my way down. Here’s hoping I’m back soon. If not, it’s been lovely knowing you all.