The blog ain't-a-growin when the words ain't-a-flowin. To make this simple: I've got writer's block, folks.
While any writer can give you numerous reasons and excuses for their brief absence of creativity, I need only relay three letters to my faithful followers. Care to buy a vowel?
In between bursts of sunshine, visitors from the United States, and my new found love for sushi, I somehow let the OCD back into the driver's seat.
Whelp, it was a sane run while it lasted.
The thing I hate most about OCD is the darkness it brings along with it. My looming anxiety could shade any cloudless, summer day---it's its own SPF.
Here's a quick rundown of this week's obsession rotation:
1. I will receive a Swiss speeding ticket which will cause the revocation of my driving privileges, therefore forcing me to use germy public transportation where I will surely catch this deadly new coronavirus that they're talking about all over the news
2. My husband will forget to shut the windows when he comes to bed and the neighbor's creepy cats will sneak into Amelia's room and sniff out her milk mustache
3. Someone will accidentally drop a pill at the village playground and Amelia will sneak it in her mouth while I momentarily step away to grab the hand sanitizer
4. That I will never have reprieve from this horrendous disorder that takes so many hours and days from my life; you stupid OCD robber piece of $h*t.
Alright, enough with the sob story.
Sorry for the scatterbrained, writer-blocked blog dripping with self-pity, and sorry for those who know all too well of what I write.
When the OCD comes, it sure don't come easy.