Why?

Yesterday, I was stuck for something to write about. I read all of the news and browsed the various blogs, but there wasn’t much available to stimulate the brain. And the same thing is happening this morning.

I’m having the same problem with my book selections. I went to the library yesterday, hoping to find a book that might hold my attention for more than a few hours. There was nothing. Not that I search with any kind of plan; I don’t. I walk the aisles of the library, head tilted sideways to see the titles on the two rows that I can see without crouching or getting a step stool. I think there are probably 6 or more rows that I never see. I’m saving those for a rainy day.

I made the mistake of picking up a Clive Cusler book the other day and now, despite the fact that I can’t believe they pay him money to write this stuff, I’m still plodding away at the book. Torture! “She turned from her Underwood Model 5 typewriter and looked up…” Is the kind of dialogue you have to put up with. But why do I do it?