Bless her little heart. I informed her that I blog most days ending in “Y.”
Truthfully, blogging for me is a little like the old Dunkin' Donuts commercial: “Time to make the donuts.”
Except instead of donuts, it’s half-finished thoughts, strange metaphors, stories about tomatoes, Catholic schools, childhood trauma, raccoons, and occasionally squash. Case in point: Yesterday was graduation chaos.
There was:
- graduation prep
- physical therapy
- graduation itself
- recovering from graduation itself
- trying to remember where I left my sanity
Needless to say, there was no time to blog. Apparently, this disruption in routine caused a disturbance in the time-space continuum. Because at exactly 1:47 a.m., my brain kicked open the bedroom door like an unpaid Vegas lounge act and began throwing blog ideas at me in rapid succession.
Five of them. All are demanding immediate attention. Now here’s where things get complicated. This room I currently occupy was once:
- The Office
- The Man Cave
- Then briefly hijacked into a “She Shack”
- Before finally becoming an actual bedroom this fall
Marriage, after all, is about compromise and surrendering square footage. So if I wish to remain married to the love of my life, I cannot simply roll over at 2:00 in the morning, crack open the laptop, and begin hammering the keyboard like a caffeinated woodpecker. That would be what experts call: “A poor long-term relationship strategy.”
Instead, here I am, under the covers, typing on an iPad, with what can only be described as “mambo fingers,” trying desperately not to wake my sleeping bride while simultaneously outrunning the expiration date of inspiration.
My blog ideas are cruel little creatures. If I don’t capture them immediately, they vanish forever into the same mysterious dimension where:
- missing socks go
- remote controls disappear
- and all the brilliant things you meant to say during an argument suddenly arrive three days later in the shower.
And so this is how I roll. This is when I find the time. Not in peaceful coffee-shop moments. Not seated beside a sunlit window with acoustic guitar music playing softly in the background.
Nope. Usually, it’s sleep deprivation, darkness, panic typing, and the very real fear that tomorrow morning, all five ideas will sound like they were written by a sleepwalking raccoon. Occasionally, somewhere between exhaustion and inspiration, something entertaining emerges.
That’s probably how most good stories are born. Sleep may be important. But apparently, my brain has chosen storytelling instead. Four more blogs to come, competing for my attention, for the end-of-the-school-year celebrations... stay tuned, friends!
Comments
Post a Comment