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Where’s that Damn Energy Pill?

Must… make… blog… post…

You know, like in a superhero comic, when the hero (or heroine) is in some dire situation yet is determined to accomplish the mission at hand.  Or they have just enough strength to reach the one thing that will save their life so they can accomplish said mission.  Ooh, like Underdog:  “My ring… my ring I fill…  with an Underdog… super… energy… pill.”

I’m beginning to think I have one of those diseases that some people think is a made-up thing.  Yes, yes, I know that many of those diseases ARE real things and people do suffer from them.  What I mean is, I have this collection of symptoms that come and go with no discernible cause or cure; you can’t SEE anything wrong with me, and sometimes I just don’t feel up to doing what I thought I was going to be able to do.

In my defense, these symptoms don’t usually get me out of things I don’t want to do and sometimes keep me from doing what I truly would like to do.  Isn’t that the real criteria of a made-up disease?  It gets you out of work but not out of going to a party.  Well, I made it through work, although I whined a little to my co-workers (I hope they didn’t mind), but I was supposed to go to rehearsal for Shattered Angel (more about that play later) (preview of coming attractions), and I just couldn’t do it.  In fact, if I didn’t have to be to work at 4:30 tomorrow morning (because my symptoms will not keep me from working overtime, I hope), I would wait till morning to make my blog post.

I am quite mortified to be taking another blogger’s sick day and I hope my readers will not become impatient with me.  I was hoping I could get away with it with some humor and an Underdog reference.

 

Typing… About… Writing…

Must… get… blog… post… written.

You know, like in the comic books?  I don’t read a lot of comic books, but I know there is often a frame with the hero going through something dire and saying he must… do… something…  I find that perfectly appropriate for Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

I truly am feeling very wrist to foreheady this afternoon.  For anyone just tuning in, wrist to forehead refers to the old timey heroines about to swoon.  I stole the expression “wrist to forehead” from a former co-worker.  I think I made the pose and she said, “It’s a wrist to forehead situation.”  I know I have explained this before, so my apologies to longtime readers for being redundant.

The reason for my current angst is that I am having the damnedest time writing.  Yesterday I managed six post cards and a blog post.  I have other things to write!  What the blankety-blank is my problem?  I know, I know, I have to just sit down and bloody well do it.  Well, I am.  The first thing I have to write is today’s blog post.  And here I am, typing away at it (as Truman Capote famously said, and as I have previously quoted, “That’s not writing, that’s typing”).

And I see I am over 200 words.  That is all I require of myself for a blog post.  Self-indulgent, you say?  That could be.  Then again, I am not burdening my readers with too long of a post.  I don’t always read the really long posts myself.  Oh dear, any bloggers reading this who make really long posts might take offense at that.  Then again, you never know. Maybe I read all of THEIR posts, and it’s the BORING long posts I give up on.  I hope nobody has given up on me.  That would really be a wrist to forehead situation.