It was a quiet Saturday here in Biffville (a suburb of Dallas).
Weekends always start Friday evening with such promise, optimism, and hope. However, those things evaporate like morning dew as soon as the rising sun hits them on Saturday morning. Not long after staggering out of bed and towards the coffee maker, it becomes apparent that there will not be much in the way of progress or accomplishment this day. Gone is the big dream of finally cleaning out the attic, replaced by the more attainable dream of having both eyes open at the same time and pointing in generally the same direction.
Coffee restores a little bit of my Friday evening optimism, but not much. My dreams of writing prolifically throughout the weekend are put on hold while, instead, I attend to such mundane tasks as laundry, vacuuming, grocery shopping, getting a haircut, talking to various people on the phone, and filling up the car with gas.
Eventually, Saturday evening rolls around and I can finally sit down at the keyboard. I stare at it for upwards of 30 minutes, trying to remember what exactly it was that just yesterday evening seemed like such a brilliant idea for a blog post.
Perhaps I should have written it down.
But that doesn’t work either.
I have received cryptic notes from myself before that I stared at like an Egyptologist who was the first to set eyes on hieroglyphs. I scratch my head as I read cryptic words that are the equivalent of a bird with a cat’s head. Alligator body with a dog’s head? Koala on a pogo stick? A wheel of cheese on an escalator? What the hell was I trying to tell myself? If only I could decipher it, I might perchance get a blog post out of it.
But it is too late. My energy and enthusiasm of Friday night has dissipated into a sort of inert lump of lethargy.
And that’s where blog posts like this one come from.