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Tue, Jan 27, 2026

11:45pm EST

Members: 663

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Total Online: 8,854

Ya Know What I Was Thinking?

by Jeffrey Meyer

Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #2348994

If you DO want to know, welcome to my blog

For those who actually want to follow my thoughts, ideas, moans, and gripes, this is the place for you! For those of you who are returning...I questions your judgment, you poor souls.

Show Recent Comments

10 Most Recent Blog Comments:

Jeff

about 2 hours ago
In response to "Isn't There Anything to Do?"

Sometimes just getting your thoughts down in writing is a success in and of itself!

Amethyst Snow Angel

about 8 hours ago
In response to "Isn't There Anything to Do?"

Ack, I don't know whether to

Goals...

Wait, you're a Pisces too

Good luck out there in the real world!

Brandiwyn🎶 v.2026

about 8 hours ago
In response to "Isn't There Anything to Do?"

Goals aren't for everyone. I do like your "what I don't want" list, but even that may be unnecessary. You may not need goals at all, if you're naturally good at prioritizing without planning. Do you get the things done that are required for you to avoid the things on your "don't want" list? That's what matters.

1 Like

Brandiwyn🎶 v.2026

Jan 25, 2026 at 8:32am
In response to "The Nesting Phase"

"And another blanket to curl up in when my dogs usurp the first the one." 😂😂😂 I feel this in my soul. I take it you have burrowers too? Meet Thomas:

What do you consider southern Midwestern states? Ohio, here. Our plows/salt trucks are pretty thorough and prompt, but we don't carry chains as a rule (or law) and occasionally berms left by the plow at the end of a driveway couldn't be driven over by a quad. So that's fun if you drive a compact sedan. I don't, luckily, since I occasionally require space to transport drum sets and electric pianos, my housemate drives a hatchback.

Roads here look like they've seen a pass or two by the plows so far overnight or this morning, but it's still falling. Posting photos shortly.

Hoping you still have power. We do, so far.

Ichabod Crane

Jan 24, 2026 at 3:54pm
In response to "The Nesting Phase"

If you have a cellphone and can still hit towers that are working, you can tether your laptop/computer to it. No cable needed.

1 Like

Jack of Diamonds

Jan 24, 2026 at 2:27pm
In response to "The Nesting Phase"

Fill your bathtub, then use a plastic bucket to scoop out water to fill the toilet tank. You can get between 20 and 50 extra no-water flushes like that depending on the size of your bathtub and the quality of your stopper... J

1 Like

I Resolve to Wear My Sox

Jan 16, 2026 at 5:51pm
In response to "Domesticated Terrorists"

Currently raising a kitten nicknamed Cannibal. On of my dogs indicated she needs exercise. I told him to chase her. He simply replied, "No, exorsize like in this conjuring..." He really isn't suicidal enough to chase her. Her real name is Mittens but I have come to believe that they aren't mittens, they are gloves so she doesn't leave behind pawprints.

Dave Ryan

Jan 16, 2026 at 10:05am
In response to "Domesticated Terrorists"

I remember the cats when I was a kid. They had lots of games they liked to play. Here are three of their favourites.

Bed wars: A summer sport, played during summer when I didn't have to get up early for school. A subtle battle for territory, where the cat would start at the foot of the bed and slowly encroach upwards, claiming new territory every time I moved while always maintaining the death-stare.

Chair race: Turn up at the window looking to be let in, forcing you to give up your chair. Once in, it is then a straight sprint to claim the now vacant seat.

Paper chase: A variation of your newspaper observation. If the paper is on the floor, they park themselves on it. The game is to manoeuvre them off the paper without them tearing the damn thing to shreds in the process.

Amethyst Snow Angel

Jan 16, 2026 at 9:58am
In response to "Domesticated Terrorists"

Hey, at least you can practice your "french..."

Jack of Diamonds

Jan 14, 2026 at 1:10pm
In response to "Break Time!"

That's epic! Sounds most remarkably like life around my crib. And I'm retired, so here's what you have to look forward to... J

January 27, 2026 at 3:29pm

#1106948

Isn't There Anything to Do?

I wake up, to begin with. I fumble my phone around for a few minutes, inevitably dropping it; since my thumbs and first and second fingers have no feeling in the morning, it's an interesting adventure almost warranting a blog entry in and of itself. Once I reach under the bed or around the nightstand or in the dog's bed— wherever the Gods of Dropped Things have decided to hide it that particular morning— I turn the damn alarm off and stand up. After communicating with all the different parts of my body and determining the important parts are fully awake, I stumble through the house to let the dogs out. And back in— can't forget that part; they get quite judgmental if I forget that part. I fire up the Keurig, eat a bowl of Fruity Pebbles, and stare absently at my cuppajoe.

Welcome to my morning; and welcome to the end of my goals for the day.

I am not a goal-oriented person. Perhaps it's because I'm a Pisces, my head in the clouds and my feet in the water. (That sounds like someone itching to get struck be lightning, actually. Well...depends on the day.) Every Monday, I sit down to make a list of goals for "Weekly Goals"

. Then I sit there and think: "What do I want to get done? I'm sure they're looking for more than 'Take out the trash.' Or 'Let the dogs back in.'" So I commit to writing X number of reviews, flashes, words for longer pieces. Then I look at others' lists of goals and can't believe how far behind I am. I mean, some people want to do stuff, man! Like, beyond putting on pants.

So I cogitate. What am I hoping to get done. I come up with:

. Nothing there. Then I realize: my goals aren't necessarily things I want to get done, but things I do not want done to me.

I don't want to get fired. In which case, I reckon I probably better hurry up and drink the coffee, definitely put on the pants, double-check to make sure the dogs are in, and get me ass to work.

I don't want to get yelled at, at home as much as at work— probably more so. Far worse than a honey-do list is a f***er-I-told-you-to-do list; they're probably just goals I probably forgot about, anyway.

I don't want to wind up with a headache. This is areal thing. Unless I pound water all day, I get the damnedest headaches you can imagine. So I drink enough water and wind up pissing all day. I'm thinking of just posting my name on the urinal at work. ...I might make that one of next week's goals.

I don't want to have to do things I don't want to do. Yeah, that's the adolescent that still lives inside me, the one that wants to pretend I'm 17 and have all the freedom with none of the responsibility. Still, it counts. My goals; I make 'em up, dammit.

But what do I want to do or get done? Well that's the thing. Nothing! Nothing that comes to mind, anyway. For instance, on the weekend I prefer to live from minute to minute, doing whatever comes naturally. Write a little. Draw a little. Despise what I drew a lot and throw it away. Watch some TV. Try writing and watching TV and winding up curious as to why my story about unicorns now also contains a scene where a woman blew up her husband's car. Look for the TV remote to change the channel because this series of women who blow up their men's cars or lock them in freezers or stab them in the top of the head is starting to make me a little paranoid. Side-eye my wife, who is diligently working through a 27-point list of goals and starting mutter things that sound suspiciously like "where can I find some dynamite." Ya know; that kind of stuff.

I dunno. I'm not even sure what my goal was with this blog entry. Perhaps the entry itself was a goal? Maybe. Well, trying to remember whether I really had a point to all this is a goal for tomorrow. As far as today—shit, that's the one I forgot. I have to go put on some pants!

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