So I'm sitting in a hotel room drinking champagne cocktails, wearing my pj's, watching Sex and the City 2, and wanting to do anything other than blog. I have to blog - only because I said I would, and because I have for more than 60 days, and, you know, because I said I would.
But some days, days when the day was perfect and gentle and lovely in itself, and I don't want to analyze it or look ahead but simply to be grateful for the day that was, I don't want to blog. The prompt doesn't fit. The timing is off.
And so you get this - my not blogging post - instead of whatever lame insight into rejection I might or might not have written.