There's dust on the curtain rods in my living room. Did you want to know that? I don't know and at this point I'm not all that sure that I care. But this is what I deal with every day and I think it's time I shared.
I think about things, talk non-stop, and turn everything into a story... Lord help the poor souls at work who put up with me...and yet when it comes to writing things down I've decided no one cares about the simple meanderings in my head, or my life, or my mind and instead of typing I (GASP!) go to bed.
Tonight, I'd been staring at an empty blog screen for more than half an hour when Ben chuckled and asked, "What are you writing?" I kissed him and said, "Nothing, yet" then he leaned across the table to type "noth..." in the title box for my blog as he laughed, "Here, let me help you with that."
Which leads me to the dust.
After everything that's happened today, I'm sitting on my couch and you know what? I can see the dust on my curtain rods from here. Seriously. How can I focus on sharing my philosphical mumbo jumbo with you when there's DUST piling up on the curtain rods. The dust must be stopped. This cannot be allowed to continue. If I don't find a chair and a proper dusting apparatus (RIGHT NOW!) the world may stop turning, bunnies will stop breathing, and the chicken won't cross the road.
This is serious.
I'd type more but like I said, there's dust on my curtain rods.