This is a dry week for creativity. I'm tired. My bones are tired. I sit down and I fall asleep. I am driving to work IN THE MORNING and I'm fighting my eyelids. Maybe I'm pregnant.
Writing for me can't be forced. Sure I try to write every day but I don't put all that stuff on a blog. Lots of it is uninspired. My inner critic (and desire to someday be known as a popular writer) won't let me put just anything out there. Oh, and I just said I TRY to write every day. I don't necessarily do so. So this is a blog entry about not having a blog entry. Only not as good as a Seinfeld show about nothing.
It's not like I'm busy doing other things that are keeping me from writing. I SHOULD be doing other things like finishing painting the side deck so I can put my planters back. And the bottom deck, so I can get my furniture back and my tomato plants returned to their sunny spot. And making a tiramisu (though that one is stalled because the store only had one tub of marscipone and I need two and the last two grocery stores I went to had none). And I should be mucking out the house (my suitcase still hasn't made it back to the closet). And I should be cooking wonderful meals for my son. Not happening.
Did I mention I'm tired?