Writer's Block

I've been wanting to write something. But lately everything I really want to say is having a hard time coming out the way I want it said. I blame distractions. All of them! Like KC sitting in the living room with the TV on, driving me crazy with nothing but noise when all I really want is silence.

And yet I can't send her to bed. Not when she's waiting up to see my Mom come walking through our door with open arms and a hug to spare. Instead she burns the midnight oil, sketching quietly in her notepad while blaring my eardrums out with programming not worth paying any attention to regardless of the fact that I'm having absolutely no success in the ignoring.

I've become old.

Noise for the sake of noise, no longer impresses me. And though I have great skill and talent for blocking just about anything annoying out, right now I'd gladly throw a shoe, or whatever I have on hand, at my coveted flat screen just to shut it the hell up.

(Fast forward forty years from now and I'll bet the last few dollars in my bank account that I'll also be that cranky old lady who stands scowling behind thick, dark curtains just waiting for some young whippersnapper to make the mistake of stepping on my lawn...)

Not a pretty image. And yet, what I would do for quiet right now surprises me. But then again, not really...

Maybe I should just order KC off to bed. Or put up my latest foreign movie Netflix film. Hell, if I could figure out where Connect Four last got put away, I'd grab that out and challenge mini-me to a game.

I should probably just go to bed...

I have nothing to say.