So much so, I haven't been able to get out of bed this morning. Normally I'd have been up for two hours by now, but here I am, frittering the time away, fiddling with backgrounds and color schemes, trying not to think about the fact that I have nothing of any interest to say. What the heck have I got myself into? I mutter, as I type and erase, click and unclick.
Two hours! With spectacularly little to show for it...and I haven't even had breakfast yet.
Still, didn't someone important exhort us to do six terrifying things before breakfast? Mark Twain? Margaret Thatcher? Virginia Woolf? I should stop guessing and look it up, but I'm terrified to navigate away from this page; I'd never find my way back.
Chester the wretched dachshund is snoring somewhere around my feet, not the slightest bit terrified. He's pleased with any life development on my part that involves staying in bed for longer than usual.
I think what scares me is that I've called this blog The Fun Table and invited people to join me here, and that's bound to raise expectations (never a good thing). There are probably people on their way here already, and they're looking forward to food and fun and I'm not ready! I'm Basil Fawlty, racing around in the kitchen, slapping a meal together and hoping the rat doesn't show up.
Which actually reminds me of a funny story. Phew! I DO have something to write about.
First, though, I really have to get up, roust Chester from his happy burrow, and have some breakfast.
When I get back, I'll tell you the story about the rat.
Oh, and it was Lewis Carroll, and it was believing six impossible things, not doing any terrifying ones at all. So we're clear on one thing, at least: I don't know what I'm talking about, most of the time.
No comments:
Post a Comment