the girl who forgot how to blog

Was it possible?  Could she have forgotten how to blog?

It’d been twelve days and she’d tried.  She’d sat at the computer staring at a blank page and blinking cursor.

Mum? Can I have something to eat?

She got up and did something she did remember how to do.  She played short-order cook to her babies.  Could they possibly really be hungry again?  She suspected they weren’t hungry, but in fact bored.

She’d done countless loads of washing and baskets of folding.  She’s washed a disproportionate number of clothes for her little household.  Tutus, so many togs. Work clothes, odd socks.

She sat back down at her desk and drew a blank again.  Had too much festive fare and holiday cheer stupefied her?

It was hot.  Maybe the still, clammy, energy sapping weather had rendered her incapable of thought.  She didn’t feel creative.  She felt like sitting in the worn brown armchair and scrolling through social media.  Distracting herself with shiny holiday snaps and photos of cronuts.  She’d still never eaten a cronut or anything else made by Adriano Zumbo for that matter.

Discipline.  Blogging took discipline.  She should get out of that chair right now, sit at that desk and not allow herself to leave until she’d written something.  She’d always lacked discipline though.  She was lazy by nature.  Now she was stupefied and lazy.

The washing machine finished its cycle, she put her phone in her pocket and went in the direction of the laundry, picking up toys as she went.