I don’t know what to write about today, so I just sit here and stare at the blank screen in front of me. I drum my fingers on my desk. I sigh. I flick through the pages of my notebook. There are so many things I could write about today, but somehow…. It’s just not working.
I make myself a cup of tea. It takes a good five minutes. I take my phone to the kitchen with me and scroll through my Twitter feed as the kettle boils. Is it inspiration or distraction?
Back at my desk I warm my hands on my blue and white spotty mug. I shouldn’t be cold, but I am. It’s usually so hot at this time of year, and here I am wearing a jumper.
I stare at the photos on my pin board and I smile. But I still don’t know what to write.
I flick through the pages of an old diary. I was 12 when I first started writing about my life. Turns out that I was pretty boring back then. I used to copy the headlines from my father’s newspaper, I wonder if I understood them?
Must. Write. Something!
I sip my tea. That’s my fifth today. Is that too many?
My husband is cooking dinner. It smells good. Maybe I could write about him. What a great dad he is and how he cooks dinner nearly every night. Would that make a good post?
I suppose I could give it a miss? Would anyone notice if I missed a week?
Words blur in my mind, but the screen remains blank.
This is a post about nothing.