I haven't been very good about doing anything productive lately. I've tripped over the same laundry basket for 3 consecutive weeks, and yet I have not moved it. Emptying said laundry basket and putting it where it's supposed to be is obviously far outside of my abilities.
You'd think that kicking the damn thing to a place where I might not trip over it could be manageable, but you would be wrong. Tripping over this basket seems to provide me with an adrenaline rush I enjoy, and so the basket stays.
If I can't kick a basket out of my way, keeping up a blog with a reasonable amount of posts hasn't happened either. It's not as if my life has been devoid of ridiculousness to write about - far from it. Just the other day I was on the phone with a girlfriend who in between laughing at my latest exploits explained why it is she loves talking to me so much.
She's a single mother of four children, and she's just so glad she does not have my life. This was heartwarming. Apparently my very existence is an act of charity for those who might otherwise suffer. I live to serve, but I am going to investigate as to whether this may qualify me for any tax credits.
I have a lot to write about, including what happens when I attempt to purchase real estate, the guy who brought his wooden spoon collection to our second date, my firefighter and his lovely wife, a short-lived relationship, my trip to Thailand, my violent encounters with sea urchins and squat toilets, how I came to be known as really very unpleasant and two friends of mine who recently passed away, and why that changes everything.
No comments:
Post a Comment