Pardon me. I have an embarrassing confession to make.
I know that some things are better kept to myself. Just like I told that paraprofessional years ago, whose job it was to mind the library all day, since our only librarian was in another building. She really did not need to sit at the lunch table, lamenting, "Well, I fell asleep again at my desk for two hours." Uh uh. No need to air that soiled linen. No good could come of it.
This evening I felt especially energized. Ready to go. Fired up to whip out a couple of blog posts. Ideas flitted willy-nilly through my gray matter. I swear, in the span of ten minutes, I had four ideas. Solid ideas, I thought. Easily workable. Humorous, even. I was rarin' to go. Couldn't understand the sudden upsurge from yesterday's doldrums.
Then it hit me. I had stopped for a 44 oz. Diet Coke! Normally, I don't imbibe through the week. But it's a short week, by cracky! And I deserve a treat! It just so happens that my spurt of inspiration came upon sipping a couple of inches of my magical elixir. Sure, I had one yesterday. But I peaked early, and put off writing until the evening. My best-laid plans went swirling down the...drain.
Tonight, Farmer H and the #1 son were away at a basketball tournament. Our team doesn't play until tomorrow, but they wanted to get into the swing of the sports season at the get-go. So The Pony and I picked up a quick meal AND A 44 OZ. DIET COKE at the gas station chicken store on our way home.
And here's the embarrassing part. Look away! I'm hideous!
I carried my dinner down to my basement lair, to nibble on computerside, while my fingers flew in a flurry of idea-frenzy. A bite. Wipe my greasy paws. A sip. Type type type. Repeat. I was having a heyday. The simple things in life provide me pleasure.
Something caught my eye, lodged at the top of my shirt pocket, ready to slip down into my blue, pin-striped, button-collar, short-sleeved, relaxing-at-home oxford shirt. It was a chunk of chicken breast. White meat. Flesh. Seconds from slipping into my pocket. There is the edge of slovenliness, and then there is the abyss.
Thank the Gummi Mary, I caught myself before I had fallen with no hope of getting up.