M-III has yet to Friend me like he promised.

I upped my usual dose of coffee this morning and am now onto Coke.  (Diet.  You know I don’t like sweet.)

My laptop is hot, it flashed a snide little note about temperature and then shut itself down, I’m not pleased.  I could work on A.’s laptop, I suppose.  I mean I am, already, I’m doing it now, but there are inconveniences. 

I could write in my head from the pool but there are leaves in the pool and remember?  I’m tired.  I don’t have what it takes to get them out.  Moxie, it would take.  Some sort of zest for life that this morning I’m missing. 

There are foul-smelling things in the refrigerator, I put a note up for the other employees.

There are foul-smelling things in the litter box, and also there are bees.  Everywhere.  I’m not sure how they relate to the smells.

I’d like gardenia-scented candles for Christmas if you don’t mind.  And a cooler laptop.  And a tall dark man (hint, “A.”) to sweep the leaves from the pool.

Well, you’re not going to believe this.  It’s kind of funny, really.  After all that talk about putting the empty bowl away, I got up, walked into the kitchen, and forgot it!  I was probably in the kitchen, oh, let’s say 15 minutes.  I cleaned up a couple of things, got a cracker, searched for caffeinated drinks in the fridge, nothing big.  Then I walked back into the room, the one I’m working in, and there it was.  The bowl!  It was so silly.  I had to laugh at myself.  Jeez.

Then standing there, laughing at myself, I remembered for some reason that there was a Diet Coke in the little refrigerator outside, so I got it.  It’s one of the mini-ones, have you seen those?  8 oz.  And there was only one, I could have really used two, but it’s okay.  Anyway, when I came back inside after that, I disposed of the bowl.  It’s where it should be now:  rinsed, in the lower dishwasher rack.  Wow.  Heh, heh, you’re not kidding. 

I guess that’s all I really had to say.  Just working.  If you want to see a movie or something … ?  Nevermind, I was just kidding, seriously.  You’re busy, I know that.  Because I am, too!  I have a loooooooot of work, I’m getting it done, getting cracking, as they say.  So I’ll just see you later.  I have the middle, that middle to get back to.  Of my book.  It’s whipping along.  Coming together.  Really shaping up.  Yep.  Su-per busy.  Still.  If you have a Diet Coke, I mean, no big deal if you don’t, but if you do … and you don’t want it and you want to bring it over here, that’s fine.  I mean I can’t hang out and talk or anything, I’m very busy.  I’m really into it, you know, my groooove.  But you can leave it here, the Diet Coke.  Leave it wherever.  Front door, back, I don’t care.  If you want.  It’s no big deal.  I can, you know … I think I have some milk.  Yeah.  I can just have milk.

I know you’re busy, relax, you don’t have to read this.  You’ve all got jobs, and lives and lovers, I know I know.  Don’t worry, I mean it, just skip over this, it’s really no big deal.

Sigh.

But if you are reading, if you’re there — and please don’t feel that you should be, no strings with us, seriously — but if you are, well … I not only drank the entire glass of iced tea –and it was a tall glass trust me — I refilled it.  Yeah.  And then drank all of that.  Yup.  Yep, yep.  Hmmmmmmm.  Yeah.

Oh, and then I had gazpacho.  Crazy, huh?  I wasn’t hungry, even, but I thought gazpacho would, I don’t know, shake things up a little, get us moooo-ving again.  Inspire me.  Why not, it’s a pretty name.  Plus all those veggies, I thought it might make my brain bulge out like Popeye’s arms.  It didn’t, though.  Not that I can tell anyway.

So, yeah.  Well?  I’m just sitting here doing my work.  Yep.  Not in the same place, though, I moved.  I didn’t want to move but Scruffy jumped up to where I was sitting while I got the gazpacho and I didn’t want to disturb him when I came back.  Now I’m sitting slightly to the left of where I was sitting. 

True story, every last bit. 

I just now set the gazpacho bowl down on a table near where I’m sitting (to the right of Scruffy).  I’m done with it, I ate it.  I suppose I should put it away.  It wouldn’t hurt to.  I might.  We’ll see.  Just go back to work, I didn’t mean to bother you, really.  I have that picture, you know, of the crane fly, I can still try to get that.  I will.  And then I’ll put the bowl away.  Hey, yeah, or maybe I’ll swim, it’s nice out.  Anyway, I gotta go now, I’ll call you later. 

I knew you couldn’t stand it, so I’ll tell you:  I drank the iced tea.  I did, it was no big deal.  I filled a cup with ice, like I always do, and poured the tea into it.  No hestitation, no drama, no squinching my eyes up or plugging my nose, I just poured like it was nothing and now it’s fine.  No one’s dead and I finished three chapters (not really.  I’m peppering this post with half-truths.)

Once the decision is made, the rest comes together, it’s the decision that wastes all that energy — yours and mine.

If you’re a psychiatrist and you’re reading this, is it blatantly obvious that my writer’s block — a condition that at one time I didn’t believe in, then later jokingly acknowledged, and now live with fearfully, locked in its icy grip in a frozen, full-fledged panic – is eating away my lucidity?  Do you see that shrinker, if you’re reading this?  And if you’re not reading this, would you please?  And then help.  Help me.  Could one of you, if you don’t see any shrinkos reading my blog, please call one and ask her/him to read it, read anything on it quick, and then tell me WHAT TO DO?

My heart beats too fast and my words stay the same and that sprawling middle remains catastrophically undone. 

The tea, however, is cold and refreshing.  And no one has died.