I’ve been staring at the screen for five full minutes, zoning out to such an extent I may have actually fallen asleep. But my new goal is to write something once a week until it clicks and starts to come naturally again. Unfortunately, that’s not happening yet, so right now I just need to sit here and suffer through this exercise and take all ten of you poor readers with me.
My thoughts are random and jumping from one topic to another… should I write about the end of school year crazy, my revelation that no matter how much I pretend it won’t happen, I will probably be having a party for my son on his bar mitzvah, or the fact that my son’s kitten has now matured to a teen cat with a rebellious streak, and even though I bought the jumbo litter box and the expensive litter, enjoys nothing more than taking a good poop behind the printer in my office. After successfully potty training three boys, I take this failing personally.
Maybe I should just shower. None of these topics seem remotely interesting and I am rank from the exercise class I powered through on zero energy this morning. I barely slept last night but forced myself to go because I was feeling pretty good about my body in the morning and made the mistake of getting on the scale. Immediately, I realized that I had no right to feel good about myself, which is amazing since if the number would have registered 3 pounds lower I would have been strutting around. I hate the freaking scale.
So there would be no riding on coattails today. Thankfully, the class was a good one and I occupied my brain by looking around at a room full of the women I see on a regular basis. They are varying sizes but all fit and committed. No matter what the scales say, or our brains say or how we slept (or didn’t sleep) the night before, we all keep on showing up. I am proud to be among them. Happier to be done and leave them, of course, but tomorrow we will sweat each other again. Same bat time. Same bat channel. Welcome to the hamster wheel. Come sit with me and fold some laundry.
Now food is on my mind. Why not, since nothing else seems to be. I’m trying to be good but that always works against me. Trying to be good almost automatically results in being bad. Evidence A – a cleaned out jar of peanut butter in the trash. Evidence B – a ripped open bag of semi-sweet Ghiradelli chocolate chips. Don’t judge me. It will only send me straight to the freezer.
I might as well shower. This is clearly just rambling down to nowhere. Still, I sat here again and pretended to write something. Hopefully soon I’ll get into it. Creative productivity is just a click click click away! Until then I’ll just keep stinking up the page. And the room.
But I’ll check behind the printer just in case.