I have been trying to write something, anything at all, but the “good writing” section of my brain has gone on vacation. I use the term “good” because no one wants to read something written by a person who claims that her writing skills are poor, do they? No. So I go that extra mile (or kilometer for my fellow Canucks) and lead you to believe I am –at the very least– a good writer.
I really can’t think of anything remotely interesting to write.
I’m pretty sure no one cares about my obsession with scrapbooking, my ability to sleep almost the whole day,
my son’s poop schedule, or my super powers – which include but are not limited to –
- Night visions
- Deciphering messages sent to me my my sleeping husband
- Translating the true meaning of Stonehenge (which I am not at liberty to disclose)
- Ability to watch most any Arnold movie and know everything that is about to happen….before it happens (I know…creepy!)
- Understanding the Boy’s garbled attempts at frenglish
- Sonic farts.
There you have it. Nothing good to write so hopefully Janet* will be back from Holiday soon!
* Janet is the “good writing” part of my brain. Yes I named her. So shut up.