Don't ask. I know it's been two years. I'd like to say something traumatic happened, like I lost the use of my typing fingers (both index plus a smattering of right thumb), but the reason I haven't been blogging isn't so much because I physically couldn't manage it. All my parts are still here. I have all my senses plus the sixth on occasion. I can still think straight (when sober, so on Tuesdays. Hey...it's Tuesday!!). What happened was I fell out of habit. They say it takes 21 days to break a habit. Which is significant if you are trying NOT to do something anymore. Seems like an eternity, I suppose, if you want to stop smoking or overeating or inexplicably using adverbs to sound important. But if you didn't really mean to stop doing something, it's suprising how quickly 21 days can pass and inadvertantly break you of a non-habit. I want to get back into the habit of writing. I wonder if this will take 21 consecutive days of writing and now it seems daunting, especially on sober Tuesdays. It might take a bit to actually get started. The first several days will require a good dusting. There are a lot of cobwebs in here, strewn across past entries and clinging to old thoughts. The spiders are long gone, I think, having scurried off to less sterile quarters on paths more traveled by and with good reason. Nothing here to hold their interest, nothing more to spin a home upon. And so I fling open the door and stomp in with my Swiffer and maybe a leaf blower to tidy this place up and remind everyone who is in charge, who started this thing and who will finish it. After all, I do have about 60 more topics to cover, and I've had two years to think about it. Surely I bring more experience to each than I would have so many moons ago. Surely we will all benefit by my extended vacation. Surely it's a good thing I'm back, right? Oh. Looks like I left some dishes in the sink, too. Sigh. Is it Wednesday yet?
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