I Am a Writer. I Mean a Blogger.

It’s spearmint. I’d like to get some peppermint.

This is a picture I took yesterday with my Tablet and neglected to include in my blog post.  I realized I had left it out before I hit publish but I couldn’t figure out where to add it in.  I figured I could use it in a future blog post.  I thought it might be further in the future than the next day, but, well, it is Wuss-out Wednesday, and, once again, I got nothin’.

I really, really do got nothin’ today.  Plenty of nothin’ as the song goes.  Seriously, I am forcing my fingers to keep moving from key to key to put in the words you are reading now.  When I pause to think of the next sentence, it is difficult to get started again.  This has been happening to me all day.  This morning when I was driving to work, I stopped for a stop sign.  I did not stay stopped long enough to be late for work, but I had to remind myself to go.  I did manage to get work done while at work, but it was not easy.

What is this malaise?  Am I not taking enough vitamins?  Is it that last ten pounds I can’t seem to lose (oh, all right, 15 pounds, sheesh!)?  Not enough exercise?  Poor quality sleep?  Or am I just a big fat lazy bum who was not meant to be a blogger much less a writer?  SAY IT AIN’T SO!!!

Now there’s a point to ponder, within that welter of questions:  why did I say “a blogger much less a writer”?  Am I saying a blogger is not a real writer?  What makes a “real writer” anyways?  I don’t imagine I can answer these questions without resorting to truisms or cliches (another point to ponder:  what’s the difference between a truism and a cliche?).  Not on Wuss-out Wednesday, especially.

I think I’ll go make myself a cup of mint tea.