There are two baskets in my living room, overflowing with laundry. The shirts and skirts are settling and wrinkling as we speak. I'd rather be folding it right now. Instead of blogging.
Actually, there are a lot of things I'd rather be doing.
I'd rather be clipping my toenails.
I'd rather be scrubbing the toilets.
I'd rather be hunting through the fallen leaves for dog poop to scoop before someone steps in it.
I'd rather be stepping in dog poop.
I'd rather be nursing the baby on the side that hurts like hell lately.
I'd rather be lying in the dark, not sleeping.
I'd rather be watching political ads on TV.
But here I am. Blogging again today because I said I would. And that says nothing about me except hey, you're stubborn.
That, and I have something to say.
Someone UN followed my blog today.
So what, right? I know. It's a little silly that I even noticed. But I did.
And my mind turned the page quickly before my heart (or my hormones?) could notice. I totally don't care. I'm not in high school. I'm not trying to win any awards here.
But my inner Sneer has been laughing all day: Every day? God, you're annoying. Could you say something new? Get a life? Or maybe -- invent one. And you think you're a writer. Ha ha! You're just blogging.
So my heart had to get involved.
Well, how do you do, Mr. Sneer. I've met you before. Remember? And I already told you you suck. I'm not writing here for you, or for you, or even for YOU. I'm writing here for me. So go away. Go scrub my toilets. Or else I'll stir fry you.
My fingers are in my ears. Nah nah nah nah nah. I can't hear you.
I'm blogging today. And I don't care who reads it.
