This apple tree is raining cats.
The internet, among other things, is not conducive to blogging—even more so when I don’t want to be blogging. I keep finding things that I want to do instead of write this post. Unfortunately, it has been over a week since I last blogged, and I can’t keep readers if they don’t have anything to read. Those assholes are picky. They could just go through my archives, but they’re also lazy. (I know they aren’t going through my archives. I have eyes everywhere—at least four of them are on my face.) I can’t blame them for being lazy about reading my archived posts, after all, they are all shitty.
Think of my blog like an apple tree. Who is going to eat the shitty rotten apples that have fallen on the ground—aside from the occasional dog, they know who they are—when they could just get a fresh one off of the branches. (Unfortunately, this tree is also dinky and regularly gets tossed around by the wind which blows all the new apples off the branches. The wind is also called writer’s block, and there are always storms. The rotten apples are the archived posts. I am only holding your hand through this metaphor because I imagine it is soft, you are lost and possibly stupid, or I miss my husband—you pick.) Occasionally they can even grab an apple and bite into it and it isn’t full of melodrama, complaints about blogging, or cats. (Cat filled apples, mother fucker—have fun getting that one out of your head. I know I will. I would also like to point out that some of the apples are filled with melodrama, complaints about blogging, and cats—reader beware. OK. Most of my posts are filled with all three.)
As much as I’d like to continue on about metaphorical apple trees, my bed time has passed. Usually I stay up much later than this, but I have to work really early in the morning—10 am—and if I don’t get up in time I won’t have time to make my lunch, a sandwich. (I’m slow and stupid when groggy. Don’t judge me, you probably are too.)