Today and yesterday have been mental constipation days as far as blogging is concerned. Ever been inside the mind of a mentally constipated person? Probably so, if you’re a blogger. If not, it goes something like this…
Since good ideas aren’t plentiful again, I decide to go with the Daily Prompt for today, which is “Angry.” I open up a new post and write a few words, then realize that since I don’t feel like writing about my usually silent She-Hulk temper (wouldn’t that make for a sucky comic book character — mom who quickly and quietly fumes something serious in her head?) or offending anyone by writing about certain angry groups of people that have annoyed me, that maybe I’ll pass on this one.
Sigh. Move to Trash. I wonder what my ratio of published posts to drafts that never saw the light of day is?
I go to Facebook. I save recipes for dishes that I’ll never eat, but that my family might like. Well, that Little Man and Sam might like, since Baby Girl is pickier than me. I roll my eyes at posts made by a few angry people and scroll on. Then I get an idea for a post — I’ll write about something sort of funny that happened in Charleston. But then I can’t get past the beginning paragraph and click Move to Trash once again.
Then I decide to wander around the house a bit. Time to set the washer back again since I left the clothes in too long. I fume over the hardening rigatoni remnants in a bowl in the sink not being rinsed out, despite asking certain individuals in my house to be sure to rinse their dishes at least 132 times over the past week. Or close to it, anyway.
I make my way back to my desk, where I see how far back I can lean in the chair without it tipping over. Not far. Then I wonder why the hell I’m still doing that at age 32 and hope that I won’t have a headstone that reads “Death by chair” before I’m 40. And then I open another draft, type a few words, delete those words, and try again. Nothing quite sounds right.
Back to Facebook. I see that a friend opened up her pool today and admire her deck, which she says they just stained, and realize that Sam still hasn’t stained or sealed the deck he built for our pool two years ago. I head over to the Lowe’s website and price some sealant and send an email reminding my husband to buy it this weekend. Emails are the best reminders, because I have proof when he claims I didn’t tell him.
See that email right there? That isn’t bolded because you opened it? That you responded to? Hell yes, I told you.
Then I get a good idea — I’ll use one of the silly topics I joked around about in my Making This Blog Hot post. I decide to write a sarcastic post on how to be successful at the blogging like me. But even that fizzles out between a combination of the funny sarcasm not being strong with me tonight and knowing someone(s) will take shit seriously and get all up in my comments section. Maybe another day…
Sam gets home from taking the kids out for a while and Baby Girl decides to give me a break by force feeding me her snack. I try to resist, but a combination of cuteness and salty goodness makes me cave. And then, just as I’m inserting gifs in the appropriate places, I have a decent idea for a post. But I’ll save it for tomorrow, and hopefully I won’t get stumped a couple paragraphs into it. If I do, to hell with it, and you’ll get a post that you might think BG hit the Publish button on while I was typing it delivered to your inbox (or reader).
What do you think your ratio of published posts to drafts that never saw the light of day is?