I am 110% uninspired to write today. I could barely write the check to Giseppi's Pizza last night for my son's slumber party. The house looks like it has been dismantled, piece by piece, and my brain feels thick. Days like these make me feel lucky that my livlihood doesn't depend on my writing. I know that's what we're all supposed to want, to support ourselves with our writing, but my writing is unpredictable, unfaithful. Like everyone's early 20's boyfriend, he can be soooo sweet and funny, but then all of a sudden, when you go by his apartment on a whim, he won't open the door all the way. Says he's really busy and he'll call you later. And when he doesn't call you right away, you call him, but you get a busy signal (remember those?). So all you can do is just sit around and wait, and wonder what he's doing. Or was that just my early 20's boyfriend?
