Sorry

Today I decided I am only here to disappoint you.

I have nothing of interest to say and surely won't make you laugh aloud.

The ticks on visits to my blog have strangely been increasing. Once and while I have someone that admits to being a reader. Even when I hear that, I don't really assume a 'regular reader' or certainly not 'an everyday checker'.

But somehow... I average 5-10 hits a day and I haven't posted anything for three weeks. The math suggests I could have disappointed 210 people with no new material, or I suppose one really rabid fan, you freak.

The point is ... I wonder if you've all scared me into writer's block. Either that or I really have nothing going on right now... ha. But in case it IS writer's block. Nervous to write aloud. I am decidedly writing the most boring blog entry ever. Just to get it out there and over with.

There was one nugget of a writing idea I had but never moved on. I'll tell you my moment.

I forget how to be a girl sometimes. Obviously, my line of work aids the forgetfulness. The lack of emotion doesn't help. And when I had short hair, the grooming process wasn't particularly lady-like in length or prep or primp.

Now I have hair again. It's weird to have hair and I tend to forget what it means to possess it in abundance. Apparently, hair gets knotted sometimes, and maybe once and a while needs a brush to untangle the mess. I forgot about how much hair we lose in the shower and the number of ways to get loose strands off your fingers. I wish I didn't have to remember how much it sucks to have one strand of hair fall between your cleavage.

So I wake up one morning, take a shower ... plaster the loose strands of hair on the tile wall. I have nothing but time this particular morning, so I thought I would actually do my hair. I dig out the blow dryer and the flat iron - yeah, a no-holds-barred type of day.

I had already dressed and donned the necklace I am making an effort to wear every day (a task in and of itself for this self-proclaimed failure of a woman). I pop back into the bathroom to commence on the speedy drying process.

I end up burning my neck from the jewelry/dryer combo. This was something I was never taught as a woman. Who knew wearing something metal around your neck would heat to a burning degree by forced air. Jewelry last I guess. I certainly was never taught that. It's amazing that I'm still learning womanly lessons everyday.

So that nugget led my mind to the idea of writing about the "womanly lessons we never get taught". It bounced around in my brain for a bit... and then I realized:

I don't have the credentials to write that story.