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^^^That period is all that was left when I deleted the entire post that went along with that title.
I wrote a paragraph and decided I didn't want to write about that. No whining, bellyaching, crying or other forms of mournful blustering. For all the little annoyances and a few slightly larger ones, life is good. Not perfect. Nobody ever promised perfect, except maybe in fairy tales, but, then, I've always been more a Grimm's type of girl.
I feel a need to write. What part of me needs to be examined, or is it just boredom? So here I am debating subjects. Searching my brain for those little sparks that have yet to be explored. Unfortunately, those tiny bits of ideas die quickly in the forward rush of everyday life if not set down someplace for safekeeping.
I need to find my sense of humor first. That is when I like to write, when something is tickling my bizarre sense of amusement.
Not tonight apparently.
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