BACKSPACE

We have a water melon in our garden that is small on one end and big on the other. It looks almost like someone set it up on one end and all the juice drained from the top to the bottom.

My brain feels a little like that this evening. I've used the backspace key more than the other keys tonight. 

An idea would flash into my brain and I'd start typing furiously.  But, a few sentences into the entry, my internal critic would groan and say "Wow! that's lame." 

BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE.

I'd think, hey, I could write about my computer trauma that's made me crazy for the last few days, and I'd be off. 

A few lines later, my internal critic would say, "Hey, why don't you do some really good illegal drugs, maybe that would help you discover a clue! I've always heard that people are more creative when they're drooling." 

BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE.

I started writing about the really cool photograph on my wall of Jilda and me, back when I had hair. The critic yawned and said, "If you could grow hair on your head, like you do on your back, you'd be set. And by the way, you look fat in that picture! " 

BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE, BACKSPACE.

I give up.  Maybe tomorrow.