A Little Too Close to Home

I accidentally went on a blog-reading rampage this morning when all I meant to do was find a recipe for stuffed pork chops.

Ya'll know how that happens, I'm sure--a stop at the Food Network's site, then what the hell I'll check my e-mail, oh there are new comments for the blog, click on the comment leaver's blog, then 47 clicks later, I ended up here, at Words On Waking.

And I started reading, then read some more and kept right on reading. Spellbound has a great voice and a rare honesty. Also, I am a wee bit compulsive.

In any case, I ran across this sentence and it hit me in the face like a Frisbee:

My daughter really needs a blog of her own, but of course, she’s too busy living life to write about it.

After reading that, I was spurred to action. I zipped right over to Blogger and signed on to write about how I need to get more of a life. That's so sad.

Geez, 123V. I should be climbing mountains or writing songs or even cooking goddamn stuffed pork chops right now. But, instead I'm writing about it.

I hate New Year's.

In the Comments section, tell me if you're depressed about New Year's and/or what it is that you would be doing if you weren't blogging all the damn time.