Me: I’m drawing a blank.
Officer: Height, weight . . .?
Me: I’ve got nothing.
Today is a perfect repost kind of day, as I am suffering from brain fluff, which is similar to toe jam, but nothing like strawberry jam, unless it ends up between your toes.
Just thinking about writing a thoughtful post hurts, as I continue my search for the door jam I misplaced after jamming my toe on the door’s threshold. It’s tough having a low threshold for pain. Just ask Leeuna at My Mind Wandered and her latest post Neener, Neener, Neener – What’s in a name.
Here now the repost … muttering of intelligible words and banging of head against the wall.
Some days that door just won’t open no matter how many times you try to jimmy the lock. You bang on the door, but silence responds with the sound of one hand clapping. Your muse is not there. She has abandoned you and didn’t even have the decency to leave a more detailed note, other than, “No Admittance.”
What’s that all about? You stare at the note for an hour or two, until the words become a Rorschach blur on the door. Stuck is what you are. No muse. No fuse.
Thomas Edison once said, “Genius is one percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration.” He often added. “I never did anything worth doing by accident, nor did any of my inventions come by accident. They came by work.”
Yet, Thomas Edison was lucky enough to have that one percent inspiration to help him break a sweat. I’m as dry as a community pool in the Sahara desert. At least I won’t have to worry about underarm stains while I wait. I check my cell. No messages. Muses can be so inconsiderate, unaware of the torment they cause when they abandon their inspirational freelance gigs for extended time off. How ironic? They who cause others to break a sweat never sweat themselves.
How often does your muse take time off?
LOL! Didn’t realize the comments reposted, too.