Oh, I think Wrist to Forehead Sunday is definitely in order today. My internet is still out. I went to McDonald’s this morning, where, you may recall, I handily made my blog post yesterday. This morning I could not get on WordPress. They told me it was not secure! What was that all about?
I suppose someone will say that writers are an insecure lot, by and large. Writers of blogs, I think, have a little more self-confidence, because we just put our words out there. Come to think of it, that is what any writer does, except, you know, the ones like Emily Dickinson, who famously hid all her poems in the attic (at least I think it was the attic; I guess it wasn’t all that famous if I’m not sure, was it?).
In case anybody was wondering, I am typing this into the word processing feature on my laptop. I shall presently seek somewhere with wi-fi (probably the library parking lot), try to get onto wordpress.com there, and copy and paste. I felt clever for thinking of that idea. I must implement it soon, though, because Steven only works till one and if I am not back, he will wonder where I am. He cannot call me, because our phone is out too. Curse you, Time Warner Cable!
Oh dear, I hope that last line does not bring the wrath of a huge corporation down on my hapless head. Then I really will have a reason for a Wrist to Forehead Sunday.