So here I sit, staring at a blank screen, knowing I have to write a guest blog, and not one single thought comes to mind. I hate this computer screen.
Then a song pops up in my head. “I never promised you. . .” I can’t think of the rest of the line. Who cares, you say? Right now with nothing else going on my brain, I do. So I add “a rain barrel.” No, that’s not right. I try “a love life.” Nope. I tap my foot in rhythm to the song. Can sing it almost all the way through until I hit “I never promised you. . .” when it all comes to a screeching halt.
My fingers itch to click onto the internet and do a search. Not going to happen. I need to get this post written. I sigh. Go to the kitchen and put on a fresh pot of coffee. Stare out the window. Run the song through my mind again. “I never promised you a . . .” Maybe it’s “hop in the sack?” Getting desperate at this point.
I notice dishes piled in the sink. Check the dishwasher. Clean, so I put them away. Load it up again, and start it. “I never promised you a . . .” Hmm. “good time?” Pour some coffee and spend five minutes searching every cabinet for my favorite coffee cup lid. Humming this blasted song, I return to my desk.
The screen is still blank, the magic word fairies having deserted me on this one. My index finger hovers over the internet key. I yank it away, and then hold a conversation with my dog. She yawns and lays back down, ignoring my dilemma. I thought she knew her place as my best friend.
My eyes skim the room. The coffee table is coated with dust. I get up and grab a dust cloth and can of Pledge. “I never promised you a . . .” What fits, for heaven’s sake? “clean house?” Ha. Hubby can vouch for that one.
Back in my chair, my hands smelling of lemon, I stare at the internet key. I dare it to draw my finger. I win−I’m a strong woman. “I never promised you a. . .ton of money?” Nah, I know it’s two words, just can’t think of them.
All right, I have to get serious here. Why is it so much easier to write an entire book than it is to write a short guest blog? One of life’s little mysteries it seems. I try to block out the song by singing another one to myself. Then another—and another. Pretty soon I’ve given myself an entire concert, but I still can’t remember the last two words of that line.
My dog lifts one eyelid from her position at my feet. I guess all this singing is disturbing her beauty rest. My daughter enters the room, dressed for dirt digging. She’s decided to take on the job of family landscaper. Just hope she finishes it this year.
“Hey mom, suppose I put in a rose garden this year?”
“Yes!!” I shout, doing a fist pump.
“Wow, you’re really into roses, aren’t you?”
I burst into song. “I never promised you a rose garden.”
I’ve stunned her speechless. The dog lumbers off into the next room. I glance down at my computer screen, amazed to see this little rambling has given me my blog. Ha! Done.