No Parking

But I wouldn’t have fared any better at a secluded writer’s colony in the woods, because I was the ideal candidate for writer’s block. All the classic defects converged in me—inexperience, impatience, perfectionism, confusion, fear. Above all I suffered from a naïve view that writing should be easy. I thought that words were supposed to come unbidden.

From The Tender Bar – J.R. Moehringer

This is the fifth post I've started this afternoon. Trying to find a good topic, like writing about my list of things to accomplish before I start work next week or the fruit turning red on the potted tomato plant outside my window, is simply not working. Nor can I find all the lists of ideas for this column. Slips of paper scattered here and there, none in reach of where my rear end is parked at the moment.

I’m thinking this might be punishment for not having been to the YMCA yet today and it is now almost 4pm. If I am going to learn how to adjust my schedule and exercise later in the day, this might be the precise time to drag my butt over there. In fact, I can feel that butt getting wider the longer I sit in this chair.

Perhaps there was a reason for this parking spot, though. My middle son just called from college in Arizona and had I been out and about, would have missed it. (My boys normally don’t call unless something is awry. Probably stems from their younger, sibling fight days when I told them to only come get me if one of them was bleeding.) Hopefully I had a few words of comfort for this boy's worry about a test that had not gone well. Nice to know they know they can still call home.

Off to sweat…and ponder a more interesting post for another day, when the words do arrive unbidden.