I Got Nothin’
Yesterday was a frustrating day. I sat down to write a post for this blog but my brain, Peanuts, just wasn’t cooperating.
I kept fiddling around with the same group of lousy little words for hours — arranging and rearranging — trying to get them to come together in some sort of pleasing way — but they absolutely refused to cooperate.
Hither and Yon
I just couldn’t seem to get my words and my ideas synchronized. It was all very discombobulating. I was running out of steam and no matter how hard I tried I JUST COULD NOT GET THINGS TO COMBOBULATE.
At 1:30 in the afternoon, I finally threw the bums out and started over.
When Life Hands You Lemons, Start Over
My second attempt was even worse! It wasn’t the fault of the words or the ideas, as such. Individually, they were all fine, upstanding words and ideas. It was the order in which I laid them out on the page that really stunk on ice.
But I refused to admit defeat. I was determined to cobble together a decent essay; even if it meant using every single tool my writer’s toolbox including the sledgehammer.
If at First You Don’t Succeed, Step Up Your Punctuation
It soon became obvious the second essay was turning out even more disappointing than the first; but still I forged ahead determined to make it work utilizing some little known writer’s tricks I had up my sleeve. Such as inserting peppy punctuation like three exclamation marks in a row at the end of every sentence — and giving a humorous word like “DYN-O-MITE” a paragraph of its very own.
I typed and typed and typed until my fingers were blue in the face. I was at the end of my rope and so desperate, I even tried sticking in some humorous kitty images in an attempt to cover up my mediocrity:Funny, but not hilarious
Oh Forget It!
At Four Frigin’ Thirty in the afternoon, I finally admitted defeat.
My husband, 37, got home from work, and found me slumped on the couch frazzled and flummoxed. So he suggested we eat out, bless his ever-lovin’ 37 heart!!!
By the time I finished my Panda Express Kung Pao Chicken and Chow Mein, I was practically my old self — until I opened my fortune cookie which read:
Until next time . . . I love you