This blank space is going to be the death of me


I had an idea to write about something. I turned on the laptop and navigated to and logged in and quickly navigated to the new post button and pressed it. I was given this awesome blank space to type whatever I wanted. I started to write and then deleted everything and started over, then deleted again. This went on for a few minutes  Finally I was left with the blank space again. I have now given up on the idea and I am sitting here telling all of you about how I can’t get past the blank space. Well I guess its not a blank space anymore because I have rambled on about nothing for a few sentences now.

Since you have made it this far I should reward you with something worth while or not you can be the judge of that. I spent my day at work and didn’t have to answer phones today but from some of the conversations I over heard I am glad I didn’t have to. I was left to my huge piles of charts and the copier. Now me and the copier have a love, hate relationship. We get along for the most part, but every now and then Joe(I decided to give it a name so it might me nicer to me) would get a random page jam and give me an error message. I wold fix the paper jam and Joe would work again. Then a little while later another paper jam. I even tried talking to Joe. Joe I would say please work for me I only a few more charts left. He didn’t speak. I would fix him again and he would work again. YAY! I did make it threw the rest of the charts without any more trouble from Joe. I thanked him for being a good copier and for working hard. I cleaned up the counter next to Joe and went up front and put the charts away.

I made it home just in time to see son in the middle of a melt down. Can I go back to work? No, darn… man was standing in the middle of living with no pants on crying his little heart out. He looked pathetic. Grandma said he was in time out for throwing things. He continued to cry until dinner was ready. He sat down was so happy that he was finally getting food. He ate all of his dinner and wanted more. He is now in bed, sleeping like a baby. Tomorrow is Sunday, which means a day of rest. I love Sundays. I never feel rushed and I can just hang out in my pj’s  if I want to. You know what I think I just might.


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