Can We Talk 2

A Dry Spell

         I don't want to write anything. I hardly have conversation with anyone. I'm played out.

         I barely typed up the minutes from a meeting where I am secretary. I don't know how I got roped into that. We only meet once a quarter, and by the time I get around to typing, I can't remember what my notes meant. If minutes were the only part of the job, I'd get by, but there are official letters to send out on a timely basis and regional reports. I am very bad about that, and keeping copies in order in the official notebook. Nobody else wants the job. Wonder why!

         I've given some thought to rewriting the ending to my last attempted novel. Nothing landed on paper. I've thought about the Dear Me contest, but nothing hit paper for that either. It's been a week since I've scribbled anything here. I've been in a funk, I guess. I've worked fewer hours, but just haven't had any mental or physical energy.

         I did sign up for a line dancing class for beginners starting in 2 weeks. That commits me to something. I want to write, but right now, pulling words out of my head is almost impossible.