I SO love to state the obvious. No one cares enough to disagree with you when you do that.
We got the snow the weather people promised us yesterday. A lot of it melted during the day and froze again over night, so this morning it was seasonably cold and the roads were covered in ice. Glare ice, actually. As if the kind that glares is even more dangerous than the dull stuff. Or the ominous black kind. They’re all super annoying. I chose this day to drive across town to my doctor’s office, going through three school zones all on the same street between 8:30 and 9:00 a.m. Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking either.
This normally 10 minute long drive took about half an hour of brake pumping and the odd sideways slide. Then I had to walk across an ice-covered parking lot without falling on my head, go up a double flight of stairs and down a long set of confusing corridors, sit down and immediately have a blood pressure monitor cut off the circulation in my right arm. Those things freak me out. So although I took several deep breaths and thought calm and happy thoughts, my reading was high. There’s a reason for calling it hypertension.
To make myself feel better about winter and all the damned ice and my life in general, I crunched my way over the treacherous McDonald’s drive-thru on the way home and picked up breakfast for me and W, including two gigantic coffees. Take that, high blood pressure.
I don’t even care if all this mundane blather about my morning is boring the hell out of you. Well, maybe I’m a bit sorry about that, but I have my reasons. For being boring that is. Yesterday I got this notification from the Word Press stats people. Or a cheery enthusiastic computer perhaps.
You registered on WordPress.com 7 years ago!
Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging!
So there you go. No wonder I’ve been feeling slightly bloggishly burned out lately. I’m not that interesting a person or deluded enough to believe I could have seven years worth of astoundingly brilliant things to say.
This is post one thousand five hundred and eight. Which means you could sit around all day clicking on my random posts picture top right (see that lady gazing at her glass of wine?) and probably never read the same thing twice. Except I do tend to repeat myself a lot, so don’t hold me to that. Because, come on. It’s been seven years. Better open a bottle before you start.
Crazy. But the first five years don’t really count because I posted so sporadically and was mostly talking to myself when I started. It’s only in the last couple of years that I have ventured out of my little blogging cocoon and made some friends.
It’s been a rather long flight. Sure hope the plane doesn’t crash.