When the Muse Goes AWOL (And Takes Your Sanity With Her)
You know those Instagram posts where writers are perfectly framed in a sunbeam, cradling a latte in an aesthetically pleasing mug, hair cascading in beach waves, gazing pensefully at their laptop like they're about to birth the next Great American Novel? Yeah. Today is not that day. It's 5 AM. I've been up since 2:30, doing the grandbaby shuffle so mom can get a few precious hours of sleep. You know the shuffle, right? That squat-bounce-sway combo that would make a CrossFit instructor weep with pride? My quads are screaming . I'm basically doing lunges every forty-seven seconds because the binky has become a tiny rubber projectile with a personal vendetta against my sanity. Spit. Fuss. Squat. Retrieve. Insert. Stand. Repeat. I'm pretty sure I've done more reps this morning than I did in all of 2024. And my hair? My hair has achieved what can only be described as "sentient cotton candy that lost a fight with an electrical socket at 2:30 in the morning....