So the other day I was having a gchat conversation with a close friend and she mentioned that I hadn't been blogging recently. I responded by saying I had several posts in my "drafts" and that I simply had lost the urge to write. My writing mojo, if you will.
Well--I have news. It's back. The mojo has returned in a major way. It all happened while waiting on the longest line in NYC. Duane Reade of course. I thought I would run in "for a minute" but that turned into waiting on line for 25 minutes behind a couple arguing. Normally this would be my personal hell, however this time I found myself almost in tears...happy tears. This could be due in part to PMS, but let's go with it. The couple was well into their eighties. She was wearing a fur hat and using a cane. He was wearing adorable "Grandpa shoes." They were arguing because he kept dropping her glove and bending down was becoming an issue. She would tell her him to "hold her hand, dammit"and slowly bend down to pick up her glove. When they eventually made their way to the register wallets couldn't be found quickly enough and she vetoed a few of his purchases, but eventually he took her hand and they...very, very slowly...made their way out of the store. I purchased my Advil, made a quick stop at the supermarket, and started walking down my block when I spotted them ahead of me. Still holding hands and inching forward, I realized they live in my building.
Nothing about this seemingly minor incident directly related to my life in any real way. I tend to argue with the men in my life, that much is true...and I can be a total pain in the ass, but I always thought of those as redeeming qualities, no? Something about these two people who (at least I'm assuming) have been together for several decades were yelling at each other struck a chord and I thought "I need to go home and blog." I honestly can't remember the last I felt that way. I tend to be more serious when it comes to matter of the heart. In 2013 I decided to let myself have fun...whatever that means...and just be really open to whatever comes my way. Obviously, I hope that leads to some asinine argument in a drug store when I'm 80, but regardless of what happens, the other-thinking is over and my mojo has returned.