I'll Think About That Tomorrow

Some days I battle writer’s block. Other days, like today, my brain is like a rabbit on crack. It jumps this direction, then it leaps that direction, then it doubles back on itself, never completing the circle or finding the carrot. You know, we once had a rabbit who thought he was a dog. He slept on top of the dog house. I don’t know where he got that idea, because I don’t think he ever watched Charlie Brown. He also liked to chase our Doxie.

Where was I? Oh, so far today, I have started four different posts. I have gotten about three or four paragraphs written on each one and decided it was drivel. Pure, unadulterated horse hockey.

Is that a bug? Hold on while I get a shoe and . . . oh, that’s not a bug. I just killed a hairball. You know, I should probably stop wasting my time trying to beat my brain waves into submission and do something constructive. Like vacuum. Or dust. Or not.

It’s a really nice day today, and I need to start thinking about getting the garden plot ready. No, what I should do first is get those bell pepper seeds into the starter tray. I got the neatest little mini-greenhouse the other day to experiment with. I don’t know where I’m going to put it though, because I don’t really have a good windowsill to put it in. Maybe I should put it on the dining room table. That’s a good spot. It gets the afternoon sun. And we never use it to eat on anyway.

Get out of that tree! Sorry, the neighbor’s cat is climbing the tree in the front yard, trying to sneak up on a bird. I really wish my neighbors would keep their cats indoors, or at least get them fixed. Mother Nature is all fine and good, but I really don’t wanna see the food chain in action. And this neighborhood is overrun with cats. I’ll probably have to put that weed block fabric down again this year to keep them from thinking my garden is a 4-star feline latrine. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the birds though. They love the lettuce and start eating it as soon as it comes up. Last year, they just laughed at the pie tins, ribbons, bells, fake lizards and rubber snakes. The rubber snake I forgot I had since I put it away in the garage oh, about last July.

Uh huh, I found that rubber snake the other day. I was in the garage throwing boxes around trying to find our wedding pictures. I moved a box, turned back around to grab another one, and all my brain registered was SNAKE!!!!! I kinda wish someone had been filming me at the time, because I swear I did a cartoon leap and did a complete turn in mid-air with my legs still moving. Add your own cartoon sound effects.

What is that noise?! Oh, the dryer. I should probably get those clothes out before they . . . Okay, who moved my tea? I wish you-know-who wouldn’t throw the mail on top of my desk willy-nilly. I have a system, for Pete’s sake! The checkbook was right here yesterday. How can I pay bills if I can’t find the . . . oh, wait, he said he was taking it today. Was that this morning?

If I could find my notebook – you know, the one I bought for jotting down thoughts and ideas for the blog – I might be able to write something coherent. Or not. If all else fails I can write notes in the dust on the furniture that’s not going to get dusted today. Did I take the chicken out of the freezer?

You know what really annoys me? Those plastic seals they put on bottles and jars. First, I wish they would fix them with tabs adult fingers can grip so you didn’t need scissors, knives, and tweezers, or a 4-year-old with tiny fingers, to get them open, but that’s not what gripes my cookies. It’s the plastic collar that’s always left when you finally manage to peel off enough of the plastic seal to get the bottle or jar open. You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?

The other day I was trying to open a pudding cup. Oh, hush, they’re only 100 calories, unless you add Reddi-Whip. I absolutely could not get a grip on that tiny sliver of plastic they have the nerve to call a tab to get the thing open. Just as I was about to give up and fire up the chain saw, I managed to peel back just enough to get hold of. Ah, ha! Then, I carefully started to peel the seal off, and . . . it wouldn’t budge. Now, here you have to be vewwy careful because, if you grip the pudding cup too hard and apply too much pressure as you are trying to peel the seal back, the chocolate pudding will get propelled into the air and end up on the kitchen ceiling, on the countertop, in your hair, in the crevices around the buttons on the blender, and in the slots on the toaster. Oh, look! A chocolate rainbow! About this time, my husband walked into the kitchen, took one look at what I was doing and said, “First, you have to be smarter than the pudding cup.” If chocolate wasn’t such a precious commodity, I would have squirted chocolate pudding directly into his frog eye.

Speaking of chocolate, I think I have some Valentine’s Day candy left. I’m exhausted. Must be low blood sugar. Candy first, then a nap. And, FYI, in dog chocolates, I’ve only had three.

Maybe, just maybe, I shouldn't have chocolate for breakfast tomorrow.

{Sigh} "I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day." Scarlett O'Hara