So this was one of those days where nothing really noteworthy happened to me all day. I got out of work and came here to my wife and son's house to wait for them to get back from wrestling practice, and write my blog. The whole drive over I was thinking "What can I write? What can I write?" By the time I walked in the door here I had an answer, of sorts.
I've got nothing.
Wife's dog is currently perched on the back of the couch, in his usual spot when she's out of the house. He'll just lie there keeping an eye on the street below that window, watching for her to come back. I walked in the front door, went right to the couch and patted the dog, giving him a good ear scratch.
"I have to write my blog, Dog," I said to him, "but I have nothing to write about. What am I going to do? Do you know what I should write about? Any ideas? Hmm? Anything?"
Dog just stared at me as I scratched him, and I realized he was probably a little worried about me. Here I was, a grown man, and I was seriously asking a dog for advice, and I was at least half-hoping that he'd pipe up and give me an answer.
That would be enough to worry anyone, I thought. No wonder he's looking at me like tha-
That's when it hit me. I was standing there seriously worrying what the dog was thinking about the fact that I was seriously asking him for advice. Seriously?
Now I'm worried about me. Seriously.
Talk to you later!