April Fool

Though April Fool's day got lost in Easter, the universe took revenge by placing me on a pedestal of foolishness . To wit: I feel asleep in the waiting room at Daniel's therapist's office while they met one-on-one. When his therapist opened the door and saw me slumped on the worn leather couch with drool inching down her plaid pillow, she could only say "Oh, Laura."  In my embarrassment, I got up too fast and lurched across the carpet into the wall, using precious moments of Daniel's time as the kind lady asked after my health, offered to get water, inquired concernedly about my sleep schedule. Only repeated blasts from Daniel's nerf gun recalled us to the issue at hand - namely, him.

I was the only person to turn up at writing group without any writing, I had to go back to the pharmacist three times in one day because I kept forgetting prescriptions, and I tripped over the (black) cat in the early morning darkness as I prepared to take William to morning practice.  I'm not witty, but I make up for it by creating many laughable moments.

As I roll my eyes at myself (only useful if looking in a mirror), I mourn the loss of my stability and the absence of writing time. To be clear, I'm not so busy that I could not write, but I've lost motivation in the hullaballoo of spring sports, work and household management.  After four decades of thought processing I know that practice and dedication are the only means for gaining proficiency (dare not even dream of excellency) in an activity. And yet....I procrastinate, I watch TV, I make excuses. 

So I promise to write, using all my foolishness as raw material and hoping that my lurches into walls, my stumbles over cats, and my random episodes of napping yield only new material and not broken bones.