The Valrus Speaks Again

Make it stop! Everywhere I turn, I run into encouragement. Encouragement for my writing efforts. What is with you people? Can a lazy woman not sit in her dark basement lair in peace, reading conspiracy theory websites, shirking her household duties, chugging Diet Coke, designing her opulent palace and the bejeweled crown she will wear as Queen of the nation of Procrastin?

Y'all are more persistent that an overactive bladder attending its balloon high school reunion. I'm surprised you don't have a village woman with an Irish brogue standing by to proffer you a good stick with which to beat me as you drag me by my flaming red hair back to our thatched-roof, white-washed cottage, where you will make me a good writer whether I want to be one or not...oops! That was John Wayne dragging Maureen O'Hara back to her wifely duties in The Quiet Man. But it seems to apply. Besides, then I would be termed a "lovely lady" right before you were handed the stick.

Oh, I know the recent blog posts I've encountered were not all about me. That's a cold hard fact on which I do not wish to dwell. It's kind of the opposite of when your principal lectures the entire faculty at length during the First Monday meeting, and you're feeling just a little bit guilty about something else somebody might think you've done that has not been discovered or mentioned, and you just KNOW he is really talking about you but disguising your transgressions so as not to elicit a grievance filed through the proper chain of command.

Excuse me. Somebody seems to have lit a fire under me. And I am all out of Diet Coke to extinguish the flames. This is really going to interfere with my quest to catch a cloud and pin it down, keep a wave upon the sand, solve a problem like Maria, and catch a moonbeam in my hand.

The time has come, The Valrus said,
To write of many things
Beginning by embellishing facts
Until that story zings.