It’s been nearly a month since I last wrote, well, anything. I’ve thought about it. I’ve flipped open the lap top, clicked the Word icon, and allowed my fingers to rest tentatively on the keyboard. And there my fingers would sit idle for about three minutes before I allowed myself to click the little x in the upper right hand corner of the screen, opting to watch Netflix or another episode of Castle because the movie in my mind was refusing to play.
I did remember to take my camera to Boy’s soccer game the other day. I pulled it out of the bag, changed lenses, flipped the switch to the on position, took a few shots (none of which were very good), and then realized that I had no more battery power.
Perhaps I should channel a few dead poets and write a plea to a Muse. Maybe I could borrow one of theirs since mine seems to be on vacation. Or maybe I should quit stopping before I start, opting instead to write anything and everything: cacata carta.
Pardon my Latin.