I can’t write tonight.
I thought that maybe starting a “Friday 15” would get me in a good place with the blog – I was starting to get really inconsistent with posts and I read that one way to get yourself going was to get some structure, force yourself to get going and just write.
Which I suppose is great on paper, but I’ve been sitting here for 30 odd minutes looking at a blank page just unable to write. I’ve got loads of funny little things to put in the 15 this week – I just can’t seem to put it together in a reasonably well.
I’ve got a humorous little story about Mini Ms Six’s first experience with Pins & Needles and her inability to explain what she was feeling. (“My leg is going wild!” she exclaimed) but I can’t find a way to get it together in my delightfully chuckle-some way. There’s a “you had to be there” flavour that I just can’t capture. (Possibly because I wasn’t there.)
Earlier on in the week I had a whole thing brewing about husbands being the biggest baby in the house – I was weaving golden comedy threads around my mind in bed the other night – at least I think I was; I slept, didn’t write it down, and now can’t get it all back. I think there were some great, belly-laughs to be had over something I was mulling around about husband’s breast-feeding jealousy, Daddy’s secretly playing with kiddies toys, and matching tantrum for tantrum. It was hilarious stuff… maybe…
I’ve had a nightmare week on the trains – and had many Twitter related rants about the outrageously shitty experience on Transpennine Express. But, I fear that you guys will soon be sick of me ranting about trains. In any case – the rage that makes it funny has passed.
So, you could have been reading an exceptional Friday 15, but instead you got this. It could have been excellent – trust me…