Yesterday, I spent a good deal of time digging through old blog posts looking for something my father was quite certain that I'd written (a story about Brigit pretending to need to pee, only to yell "April Fool's!" - I'm sure she did it, because it is totally something that she'd do, but I never found it), and I was both saddened by the complete and utter dearth of writing in the previous weeks/months/shit, year, and surprised by some of the things that I have written over the past 2+ years.
It seems, from second reading, that this used to be easier. But perhaps that's because I was not rusty then, and oh am I rusty now.
And I don't want to be rusty. It is that time of year again, National Blog Posting Month, my old friend NaBloPoMo, and I have committed to (try to) post every day in November. So far, I'm batting 1000.
(Apologies for gratuitous post to post post. I choose to blame it on the midterms. Tune in tomorrow for more mindless drivel - I'll leave the light on for you.)