It's another early Monday morning here in Paradise. I've had too much coffee, the heat is set way too high, and I'm sitting here feeling as if I'm spinning my wheels. There are days when I feel as if I have something witty and erudite to impart to the world, and then there are days such as today, when I feel as if I can't write an intelligible grocery list (that was yesterday's accomplishment). Clearly, it's a wired, sweaty case of writer's block.
Before I travel too far down the Self-Pity Freeway, I should remember that almost no one reads this anyway. So, then, if a weblog falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Doubtful. Perhaps I should just ask Larry or Michele to slap me upside the head a few times.
Perhaps once the caffeine wears off, my expectations of myself will become more realistic. Until then, well, just keep me away from any sharp instruments, willya?? Thanks....
