A blog about a blog

The problem with being sick with a cold/flu/unknown entity causing seals to appear at your door because they thought they heard you say something about free fish, when really it was just your honking cough...is that you have spent most of your day lounging about and feel you have nothing of interest to say in your blog.

And then when you do take the time to write something up, you make the mistake of penning a second entry for the day, which completely throws your mother...She Who Hath Had a Computer In Her Home Since 1977 But Still Doth Not Know Of What 'Internet Explorer' Mr. Repairman Speaketh.

Of course I call her because heaven forbid she miss something...

"You didn't comment on my other entry. Didn't you like it?" (I'm a wee bit sensitive.)

"What other entry? I always get to the part where it says "Comments" and I just stop there."

"Didn't you notice the next one with the picture of The Graduate above it?"

"No."

"Did you keep scrolling down?"

"What's scrolling?"

"Nevermind."

"OK, I'm reading it now...'Last night we had a little get-together...' "

"Mom, I don't need to have you read it out loud to me, really. I'll let you go."

"No, no...it'll just take me a minute."

"OK Mom, I need to go, but enjoy reading."

"What?"

"Enjoy reading. I need to go now."

"Oh, sorry I wasn't paying attention. I was reading."

"That's ok."

"Do you care if I make comments, because I just find this so entertaining and therefore feel I should. It feels like I'm talking to you. But is that stupid?"

"NO NO...I LOVE the comments!" (Again, I need validation and approbation on a consistent basis, people.)

"I get up in the morning and if you haven't written yet, I wait for you all day!"

"Well thanks, and I'll try to write faster."

I do try. But honestly, if you can believe it, lately I feel self-conscious about a blog being so MEMEME. I don't want to put people off and have them think that I'm so self absorbed, I have nothing better to do but foist upon you any and all childhood stories I can recall.

I mean, who really cares that when I was about six, I once had a cat named Felix who was SO INCREDIBLY SMART that I noticed him meowing under my classroom window one day...and to this day we don't know how he got to the school (it was miles away and I went there with Mom by car), or MY PARTICULAR CLASSROOM. He was just that freakin' smart.

Ok, I care. Obviously. But he was just the best cat EVER. And then he was run over by our neighbor's car, and I didn't stop crying for YEARS about it.

See, now I've just brought you down. Excuse me, I need to go get a tissue. For my cold. Yeah. My cold.

ANYWAY...every morning I rack my brain trying to think of something or someONE else to write about, and then I'm aware that I don't want to disturb anyone's privacy, so telling you about the best friend who had sex on the tennis court the other day may be out of bounds. (Oops...but that's ok...the person doesn't read this anyway. They're too busy having sex on tennis courts.)

I must be having some sort of Existential Crisis Day, because now that I've re-read this, it sounds even MORE self-absorbed to say I'm worried about being self-absorbed.

I need to go lie down. Tomorrow, I'll be sure to tell you all about it.