Watch me write about nothing.

The trick is to have something to write about or writing about nothing in such a way that your readers aren’t smitten with a fatal case of boredom.

This morning at 6:15 a.m., my alarm clock startled me awake.  I swatted around until I connected with the snooze button, then spent the next three minutes deciding whether to stand up my walking buddy.  By 6:18 a.m., I had decided to stay under the covers.  This is the first time I’ve purposely not showed up for my morning walk.

The worst thing is that after I made that fateful decision, I never really fell into a deep sleep again.  My daughter showed up, snuggled under the covers next to me for a few minutes, then scurried back to her room to watch television.  I heard my son’s alarm clock ring and listened to him start the shower.  A few minutes before eight, I wrapped my purple bathrobe around myself, wiggled my feet into slippers and went downstairs to make lunch for my boy.  I had to remind him to brush his teeth and put on his shoes.  (Would he go to school in stockings if I didn’t remind him?)  I combed his hair.

When he left, I went back to bed for fifteen minutes.  Okay, maybe thirty.  I am not a morning person.  Ever.

At 9 a.m., the kindergartener from down the street arrived and I was dressed and appeared alert when I opened the door.  My daughter greeted him with great joy and then they ran outside to swing on the tire swing.  She wore socks and shoes–at my insistence–a tank top with a jack-o-lantern on the front and faded pink capri stretch pants.  The yard was damp from last night’s rain.

I roused my teenagers from their unkempt beds–they are messy sleepers–and moments before their dad appeared to take them to P.E. at the YMCA, I handed each of them a piece of toast and off they went.  Blessed no-complaining-quietness.

Now, be thankful that I spare you the details of the rest of the morning . . . laundry, changing lightbulbs, dishes, ironing,  retrieving dirty socks from far-flung corners . . . oh wait, those were the details.  Suffice it to say that I am Boring.  At half-past noon, the teenagers returned, red-cheeked and full of school-related complaints and the kindergartener left.  I began working at 1 p.m. and finished at 5 p.m.  (Mysterious online job that pays money, real cash money, woo-hoo!)

Husband left for meeting.

We had dinner.  (Chicken, quinoa, corn and broccoli.)

Finally . . . bedtime.

Now, more work (same mysterious blog-time-stealing job) until midnight.

The end.

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Watch me write about nothing.

6 thoughts on “Watch me write about nothing.

  1. Life is made up of all of those ordinary moments. I have not updated my blog because all of the ordinary moments have given me nothing to write about. I won’t write about work – so that leaves little else to write about….I’m glad to know it’s just not me! Oh, and what’s quinoa?

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