Not that it matters, I guess, but for some reason what came out when I started to write down a blog title was “Writing in bed.” I have no idea why. I have no idea what I am supposed to say about it.
That is what I often do, though. Writing in bed.
I start blogs everywhere. Football games. Work. The car. The movies. Bars. Concerts. The gym. A lot of times I do rough drafts at lunch, and continue them at my actual desk at home.
Finishing them seems to happen most often when I am in bed. Which is kind of bad. It’s not when I am at my most alert and intelligent.
Sometimes I am the one who is finished, so then there is no blog.
Because I am in bed.
Like now.
I have cold medicine on board. It’s after 10pm, I have had a good (but exhausting) weekend, and I don’t like anything I have rough drafted. That means I am doing the worst sort of scribbling. And for no reason. Nothing says I can’t just skip a day.
There are a couple of things I need to write about that are just not processed enough in my head to even start writing yet. There is a story I need to get out of my head.
I had all day to write, but my mind was too tired. I let it watch old movies instead of reading or writing. Tear jerkers, but I didn’t even cry. Much. So when the end of the day came, I had nothing written.
I got in bed.
I need to sleep.
I should sleep.
I don’t need to write.
I start to write anyway.
I should sleep.
I have someone I would love to talk to.
I should sleep.
I keep writing.
I do not pick up the phone.
I am going to sleep.
I put my tablet away.