Recently my blogger buddy Blobby wrote he had nothing to say. Nothing. Now it is my turn. For the past couple of days I’ve been waiting for The Muses (or somebody like them) to send me an idea. But there’s been nothing.
That happens of course. I blame the time of year. The dog days of summer are a quiet nothing happening time of year. There is no pending major holiday or event. Each hot day seems to be much like the one before it. Work even has a repetition to it. Even the traveling Spo-shirt seems to have taken a break, sleeping somewhere in Illinois.
The weekend is almost over and I don’t recall what happened. It seems I’ve been more forgetful, which is another quality of the dog days. I constantly have to retrace my steps to retrieve forgotten objects. I am amazed I have anything left by the end of each day.
And it is too hot really to do much. It is a good time to snooze. Reading seems too much work; the eyelids flutter shut even at the notion.
When in doubt, get horizontal. I will take a nap and dream of wonderful things like waterfalls and ice cream and bear hugs.