No matter where I am, I always think I’m half an hour from anywhere else in town.
But there’s rush hour. Stop lights. Trains.
I don’t spend a great deal of time planning for delays. There I am at work, it’s 3:30, and I’m leaving for an appointment across town at 4:00. There’s a train, so I take the long way around, which has more traffic lights. At 3:45 I’m not even halfway to my destination, and I begin to sweat. At 3:50, I start spending more time staring at the clock on the dash than I do at the road. At 4:00 straight up, I careen into the parking lot on two wheels, jam my vehicle into park, and race into the building, breathless up to the receptionist, who can barely make out what I’m saying because of all the gasping.
Blogging is like that for me. One blog a week, that’s all I’ve got to do. Larry will do the other. I’ve got time.
When I sit down to blog (like leaving for my appointment) I think they will always take the same amount of time to produce. I’m as opinionated and narcissistic as the next person; surely I’ll be able to think of something about me and my writing to put on a page. Something interesting of course, because I’m all of that, too.
So here I am, careening into Tuesday with no blog, and apparently not as opinionated, narcissistic, or as interesting as I think I am, because instead of flying onto the screen like they should be, the words drip out like from a spigot that needs a new washer.
In retrospect I should have started thinking about this blog last week when I finished my other one. Or started yesterday. Or the day before.
But here it is, and as I try to catch my breath, I have to wonder if I’ve learned anything.
Yes and no.
Yes, because I should start earlier, and no because no matter how you well you plan, there’ll always be rush hour, trains, and stoplights. Maybe I can outsmart my personal delays by planning to do two blogs for next week.
That way I’ll have one in my back pocket for days like today when I’m nothing more than a leaky spigot.