Thinking About Writing

I am far too tired and disinterested today to write anything constructive. I thought about inviting a friend to blog for me today, but she declined. She's probably on Facebook, talking to her friends, making plans, and laughing--ha ha ha. I'm so happy for her.

I thought about posting favorite quotes, but I'm not a fan of hanging on to what other people say. I like the way I think about things too much to give control to someone else.

I thought about writing a limerick, but the girl from Nantucket retired.

"Day Before Hump-Day Haiku" just doesn't sound right.

I thought about giving my Oscar predictions, but no one has bothered to campaign for my vote. (How hard is it to send a basket of mini-muffins, Ms. Portman?)

I thought about saying something about the three men outside the window trimming a single bush, but what else can be said about how many men it takes to trim a single bush?

I thought about saying something nice about something, but

I thought about writing about how writing days like this suck, but that's obvious, now, isn't it.