I’ll be straight with you: I’ve been AWOL for a week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. But it seems longer to me, more like a month or six weeks. The thing is, I can’t shake this damn blunk (my shiny, new word for blog funk). It hangs on like a cold sore.
I can’t think. I can’t concentrate. My mind wanders like a gypsy.
Every afternoon I park myself in front of the computer and watch the cursor blink-blink-blink-blink. After a while I get bored and wander away, distracted by dust collecting on the television screen. Or the dog needing a bath. Or cookies in the kitchen. Or Super Mario Bros.
I almost resorted to the vacuum cleaner a couple of times, that’s how desperate I was. Instead I learned to balance a pencil on my nose — it’s easy once you get the hang of it. I wasted most of one morning watching snow fall out of the sky and the afternoon watching Mr. Snowblower Dude shoot it straight back up.
I blame the weather for this listlessness. Everything in my brain is frozen. My synapses and neurons have all snapped shut against the cold, blocking any and all traffic in the region. Last night it was four measly degrees outside and only marginally warmer inside. The wind chill was seven below zero. Both are Fahrenheit readings. Today it’s warmed up to nineteen, with a wind chill of nine.
On a positive note, the violent shivering and teeth chattering is giving me quite a workout. My lips have a blue tinge, sans lipstick. Plus, I have enough static electricity to light a strip mall.
Temperatures aren’t supposed to be this cold. Nothing should be this cold. Okay, test tubes and Walt Disney and martinis, but nothing else. I’ve heard hell is hot, but not a place you’d want to visit. Well, neither is this. If hell had an airline I’d be packing my bags. Think it’s smoky there? Who cares, I’ll take a Glade Plug-In. And a flame resistant bathing suit. And Tums, I bet the food’s spicy.
You know, at this point even heartburn sounds good.
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